


Pic 'n' Fics

by TheArtOfBlossoming



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: FOOCtober, M/M, Multi, OC-tober, OTPtober
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26746426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtOfBlossoming/pseuds/TheArtOfBlossoming
Summary: A selection of fics, short and long, some one-off, some related to the 'Vincent, Redefined' series, some actually part of the 'Vincent, Undefined' series but all inspired by the #FOOCtober or #oc-tober prompts lists on Tumblr. I made my own pick and mix master list. Enjoy these treats! Some of them are even sweet...
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Sole Survivor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Sunrise

"Sun should be up soon. It'll be nice to have the daylight back."

"Wonder what color sunrise we're getting today?" replied Vin. 

Mac leaned closer to Vin, both squashed onto an old red armchair on the roof of Homeplate. Vincent had been woken just after four a.m. by a nightmare. They were rare these days, thankfully. His tossing and turning had woken his husband. Duncan was still in Sanctuary with his young aunt, Roberta MacCready-Long and her parents Marcy and Jun. Shaun was studying under Proctor Ingram on the Prydwen. It had been a few months since they'd had any private time together but now, it was just the two of them.

Mac had given up trying to sleep when Vin started grilling meat at five in the morning. It was way too early for MacCready's stomach to handle but the smell made it impossible to go back to sleep, so he made coffee and decided to join Vin under the fading stars.

Vincent had eaten his comfort food before his head even popped out of the ceiling hatch. As he climbed the ladder, the can of purified water he'd jammed into his pocket got pushed up by the raising of his leg and fell out. Mac caught it just before it konked him on his hatless head.

Vin splayed out in the armchair, leaving nowhere for Mac to sit but on top of him at right angles, his lover's large arm supporting his back, knees over the chair arm dangling one sockless, booted foot and a naked, deathclaw chewed stump.

"Yeah, sun's almost here; though the stadium lights are competing for the position. So fuc..freakin..no, fuckin' bright!" 

Mac gave Vin a swear-allowance when they weren't around the boys. If anyone in the commonwealth deserved to let off steam through the occassional expletive, it was Sentinel-General Vin Hudson-MacCready.

"Hahhh," Vin sighed "I miss the forest sunrises on camping trips. A crisp, fall morning like this, you'd see the gold streaming through the orange leaves, lighting them as if they were on fire"

"Flaming trees? That supposed to be romantic? Sounds terrifying!" Mac smirked, deliberately taking it literally.

"Not actual fire, dumbass. It was beautiful. I miss autumn leaves. Barely enough on branches these days to even qualify as trees."

Mac ran a hand through his love's auburn hair. "Were the leaves this color?"

Vin let out an amused huff. "Yeah. Fisch used to call me an' Pop the Fall Guys. My dad's hair was a brighter shade, though, before he started going gray."

His face fell. "I used to love all the shades of orange. Now I can't help but see that big, flaming mushroom cloud…"

"Safety on, Vin. Don't go there. Look! See those little clouds?" 

"Hmm?" Vin was too busy staring into the blue morning skies of his dearheart's eyes.

"Pink! We've got us a pink day."

"I know what that means," Vin smirked.

"What does that mean?" Mac asked, softly.

"It means I'm carrying you back to bed, lover."


	2. Survival Methods (Angry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is actually a chapter from Vincent, Undefined entitled 'Betrayal'. I had just written it and it fit the prompt perfectly.

MacCready picked at the last few beans at the bottom of the tin as Vin finished his Purified water. They had stopped for a brief meal break on the way to the bunker that Haylen had told them about.

"Don't tell me you were shocked when you found out Danse is a synth. That guy has about as much emotion as a bag of hammers," Mac muttered into the tin, scowling.

Vin suddenly wore a matching scowl. He didn't get how people could so suddenly turn against those they knew well when one was accused of being a synth but was more upset to hear this attitude coming from Mac. 

"Hey! Just 'cause someone keeps their feelin's close to their chest doesn't mean they're not human, dickwad."

That last insult slipped out by mistake. For a moment, he was the teenaged Vinnie, defending his cousin again.

"What did you just call me?"

"Sorry, um…old habit. Danse just reminds me of Vaughn, is all. People were often mean to him for being…emotionally reserved. Look, I know for sure that Vonnie was human. Uhhgh, that's not even the point, here, though. Just because Danse's body turns out to be synthetic doesn't automatically mean he's workin' for the Institute!" 

MacCready wore his 'unconvinced and disgruntled' expression.

"I mean, hey, for all I know, _you're_ a synth and Duncan doesn't even exist.."

Mac's eyes narrowed, his face stony.

"…but I trust my gut and I know you, Mac. Heck, even if you did turn out to be a synth, you'd still be my best friend."

This threw a spanner into MacCready's building rage and the cocktail of rebuttal he'd lit and been about to launch sputtered out.

"I know Danse, R.J., better than you do. He's opened up to me and allowed some of that guarded emotion to show through. He must be distraught right now."

(MacCready)  
 _I want to be angry with him, for what he said about Duncan. I'm shi..sure scared of synths. Everybody is! Who hasn't heard of people being replaced? What I don't get is why Vin_ isn't _._

_Then again, that whole 'flip the switch thing'… there was this Gunner private once. He was nothin' special, followed orders, kept his head down. One day, he snaps, starts firin' on the officers. Got a final bulletwound for his trouble. They checked, no synth bauble. So… if a human can flip, maybe there are synths that won't. I hope for Vincent's sake that Danse doesn't do anything sudden but if he does, I'll be ready._

(Danse)  
 _So, he found me. Of all people, I suspected he might be the one. I'm glad to see my friend even if he is here, undoubtedly, to end me. I'm relieved, in a way, that it isn't Leonard Rhys. That would have been…uncomfortably messy._

_The ex-Gunner is with him. Aspirant MacCready. It doesn't surprise me, those two are inseparable. I admire the man's loyalty. He clearly loves his Knight._

_Vincent said "No." He's willing to risk the serious consequences of disobeying a direct order from the Elder? Because he values our friendship… even though I'm a filthy, unnatural synthetic?_

_He asks me why I ran. My self-preservation instinct kicked in without my having much say in the matter. There's a loaded weapon nearby I plan to use. I just..can't. Yet._

_He tells me that I have shown human empathy. That I'm the proof that Maxson is wrong. That I am a Synth but everything I've done has been for the good of mankind._

_It's true. I can find no ulterior motives, no sinister thoughts within save the possibility of ending myself…but the longer Vincent talks, the more that option feels like fear and cowardice. That is not who I am. Maybe there _is_ another way, after all._

_Exile._

_I admit, I never have been able to read faces well but Knight Hudson's and Aspirant MacCready's are such a stark contrast right now. Vincent's is hopeful, relieved, perhaps but MacCready, well. He clearly did not like the outcome of our conversation. I can't blame him._

(MacCready)

_There it is again, that phrase. 'Best friend.' This time it's directed at **him** along with the unspoken statement 'Gen three synths are people, too'. I see it in his eyes and in the tilt of his head under that darn fine cowboy hat._

_We head to the lift, leaving Danse to pack his things. There's an unpleasant surprise waiting for us outside… Maxson. And he looks pissed. Don't know how he found us, unless someone overheard Haylen. It doesn't matter. Danse steps out the door and the Elder kicks off. Guy has anger issues._

_Somehow Vin, charmer that he is, manages to talk Maxson out of executing Danse. I have to admit kinda being on the ex-Paladin's side now, too. He looks small without his power armor, way bigger than me still but not as buff as my Vin. Er…my **best friend** Vin. _

_Maxson leaves, saying "Don't mistake my mercy for compassion." I'm imagining cartoon thunderclouds and lightning following him. No sir, God forbid anyone thinks you're **compassionate**. That's the problem with the Brotherhood right there. If Vin ever decides to quit, well, I'll follow his lead. I made a deal, right?_

[*click*]

It could be worse. I could be filling an actual dead man's shoes. One that I'd killed myself. When Mac and I reported back to the Prydwen, the comments started. I've never had 'congratulations' that made my skin crawl before. My jaw aches from all the clenching I did, biting back the rebellious responses.

The Elder made me a Paladin and MacCready a Knight. It felt like a dirty compliment. All I could say, though, was "I'm honoured." Mac just nodded. I was still a little rankled by Mac's earlier comments but his actions showed me that he was at least willing to follow my lead on this.

[*clack*]

Vin opened the door to his new private quarters. He gestured for MacCready to enter first and closed the door behind them.

"Weeell, looks like we know who was feeding the molerats, now," MacCready observed, gesturing to the blue plastic dogbowl with the cooked haunch of something in it. Vin chuckled in surprise and turned toward the bed.

Mac put a hand on his arm to halt him. "Vin, I just wanted to say…" the newly promoted Knight waited until he felt the gaze of those green eyes fully connect with his own blue ones. For a moment, everything else was completely out of focus. Mac felt his breath quicken, his palms inside the uniform gloves became clammy. He refocussed by shifting his weight slightly onto his left foot. "The way you stuck up for Danse, well that says alot about you." A sarcastic smirk crept onto his face. "It makes it easier to stick around when I know I won't end up getting stabbed in the back."

Vin didn't rise to the banter but remained deadly serious. "I'm no backstabber. I'm glad you came around, brother. I wonder if Maxson ever will?"

(Vin)  
 _Brother. It doesn't feel like quite the right appellation to call Mac. Danse, yes. My once-mentor turned close friend. MacCready, though… I couldn't ask for a better professional partner. I can't quite figure out what we really are to each other outside the work, though. Friends seems… inadequate. Off the mark. Best friends, doesn't cut it. I can't see any options beyond that though I feel… something that's out of reach. I don't know what. 'Brother', a common enough term of comradeship in this organisation, anyway. It'll do._

_I take stock of what Danse left behind. One set of tattered rags is all that remains of his life before the Brotherhood. A few empty booze bottles tells that he was a private drinker off-duty. Ammo, tools, a manual of the Brotherhood codex with the Paladin section marked. I skim-read to see what kind of orders my new position affords me to give._

_A quick bite to eat and drink at the mess, a half hour to tinker with what used to be Danse's P.A. and is now mine, then down to the command deck to report to Lancer-Captain Kells for our new orders._

_My heart is in my boots. Kells has ordered me to lead a team to Railroad HQ, to 'plug any leaks'. To wipe them out._

_I was dreading this. I knew that the Brotherhood and Railroad would never see eye to eye. I thought I'd have time to try and talk Desdemona out of confrontation… but she's a fanatic, in her own way. Refusing to rescue humans like they rescue synths; insisting on memory wipes, personality implants. They may be the same synthetic bodies they rescue when they're relocated but they're not, ultimately, the same people. That's not what I'd call a rescue, in my book._

_No, I have less problem with the thought of taking out Des, more with the others. Doctors are in short enough supply but Doc Carrington is loyal to Desdemona and a stubborn old sourpatch. Tom's a genius but unstable. It's the ones who might have changed their tune that unsettle me. Deacon. He's a liar and I can't trust him but he might have seen sense. Then there's the 'postergirl'. If only the Brotherhood had been willing to see Gen threes for the victims they are… but Maxson has just put pay to that, otherwise I'd've tried to talk to Glory._

_The Railroad have just run out of track; the bufferstop is in sight._

_I've already lost my son to the Institute. I need to make sure he can't continue his insane crusade to 'redefine mankind'. The Brotherhood are the only ones with enough manpower and equipment to have a hope of physically breaking into the Institute...and we can't afford to have the Railroad mess that up._

_Damage control. That's what this is, what it has to be._

_I have my orders. I'm to try and reclaim P.A.M. or destroy it._

_Kells also has orders regarding Brian Virgil. I managed to convince him that Virgil is cured and not a threat. He'll be surveilled, though. I'll make sure he gets regular supplies._

_More damage control. Mac sensibly keeps a lid on it. We have a few hours before we move out in the early ones, before dawn. Time to bunk down._

(Mac)  
Vin's not getting enough sleep. Neither am I, laying on this bunk, the one that used to be his. If the springs weren't bust before he landed his bulk on it, they sure are now.

This metal cavern isn't exactly a comforting cave. I hate sleeping in pitch black but lights and stomping metal powered boots aren't helping either. A squire handed me these squishy little plugs for my ears but what if they get stuck in there? I don't wanna end up half-deaf like Vin! 

I get up and find Brandis, tell him I'm going down to the old airport so I can sleep on the ground. He asks if there's another bed he can use and charges an Initiate with the task of telling Paladin Hudson where we are at midnight, before we have to move out. 

One unpleasant vertibird ride later and I touch blessed tarmac. Safe in the concrete bunkroom, I sleep, dreaming about Duncan and Lucy, who morphs into Vin as _he_ gives _me_ the little wooden soldier. At least, that's what I thought it was but the dream slips away as my watch alarm peeps shrilly in my ear.

My Paladin is soon by my side and showing me into my new T-60. I'm a real-life freakin' Knight, Dunc! You proud of your dad now? 

I'll see you soon, little bobble. I promise.

* * *

Paladin Hudson and his squad stomped right up to the Old North Church, shaking the loose paving stones and waking the contorted crows.  
One of the Knights shouldered the door open suddenly and the soldiers poured in. Paladin Hudson and Knight MacCready burst in to find that the Heavies had crawled out of the woodwork. The Brotherhood had been expected. That was no surprise to Vincent, intelligence was the Railroad's main weapon. 

Vin finished off a Railgun-toting heavy about to fire on an Aspirant, then spotted a flash of grubby white among the pews, a dark-haired head ducking back. Vin didn't need to order MacCready to cover him - that was a given. He ignored the heavies swarming out of the crypt doorway and took aim. Done. He stooped over the body just long enough to grab the medical supplies that he knew he'd find in the coat, willing himself to keep his gaze away from the familiar face.

Vin turned swiftly, making his way directly to the passageway leading to the ancient tunnels. Brotherhood soldiers fought Railroad Heavies but Paladin Hudson only paused to fire when it was unavoidable. The codified door was sealed but a Knight had placed an explosive charge on it. If he had had room for any thoughts other than carrying out his orders, Vin might have wondered if they had changed the locks or if they knew he, Bullseye, was coming for them but he was so battle-focussed that no extraneous musings stood a chance. It was just as well or he might not have been able to what needed, unfortunately, to be done. 

The wall exploded, lending a strange sort of weather to the musty tunnel: hot wind and aggregate raining from the ceiling. It tinkled over Vincent's armour briefly, the sound echoed by railgunfire in the chamber beyond. Vin passed like a storm, Righteous Authority shooting red lightning to strike down any in his way. He was determined to get to the brown wooden door first, ignoring the Railroad's ricocheting revenge, leaving the rest of his squad to deal with the ones he'd rushed past. He reached the door before any more railroad spikes could even attempt to lodge themselves in his carapace. Panicked footsteps on the stone stairs, a beat, Drummer Boy's last. Vin withdrew a plasma grenade, his PIP-boy telling his suit that most life signs were around the corner to the right. He stepped (another beat), threw (and another) stepped back (thud, thud, thud in his chest). Green light and a sickening sizzle. Gunfire from the left. Desdemona (thundering beats), VATS peeped its readiness, the sound drilling into his temples. Laserfire, the dull thump of a body on the floor. Quiet, except for the taiko-drum thunder of his heart in his ears.

"All clear!" It was his voice, his soldier's voice, automatically doing its duty. He entered the room. They were all down, except…someone was missing. He dealt with P.A.M., picked up medical aid, a few tools, nothing more. No time.

MacCready trailed Vincent all the way back out to the church like a shadow, silent and serious. They turned left toward the entrance hall, the sounds of muffled orders and debris falling from the broken balconies covering the quiet clicking of the front door. One last Railroad agent. One last discharge of his fusion cell. One last soft thump on the creaking old floorboards.

_One last murder._

His inner voice, held hostage to duty, struggled free. Could he call it _that_ when it was war? 

_"…unfortunate collateral damage." echoed Father's voice in his head._

_It had been too easy, from a combat point of view. A standard sweep and clear. Minimal casualties, objective completed. There would be a follow up security and acquisition detail after the dust had settled but the Paladin and his Knight would not be part of it._

_Vin reached up and released his helmet clamp. Mac followed suit. He looked into his companion's eyes: normally a clear green they were now as dark and murky as a radstorm. Vincent was silent as he knocked the sunglasses from the cooling face._

_The action revealed less than he had assumed it would. From a personal perspective, it had been the hardest battle Vincent 'Nate' Hudson had ever fought. Especially taking down Glory and… Deacon. He wordlessly dropped a beer next to him. A gift for the afterlife. Or whichever scavver that picked up the shades._

_Vin shoved his helmet back on forcefully and half strode, half jogged out of the old church. MacCready knew better than to get in the way of that particular radstorm-personified and so took shelter in its wake._

_[*click*]  
‘Personal record…ah whatever the damn date is…..  
The Railroad is gone. There was no middle way. I had to choose the Brotherhood so that we can take down the Institute. My own son, taking point on humanity losing itself.  
I’m never going to sleep easy again. If only Desdemona hadn’t forced me to choose sides. There was another way. I would have helped them to turn the Brotherhood into something that helped the good citizens of the Commonwealth, biological or synthetic. At least I got Danse out alive.  
If there’s a way to get Maxson to see…I doubt it, though. I’m a Paladin now. A bitter victory, to say the least but perhaps I might have a better chance to open some minds. If I can’t include the synths - and the ones who still think they’re human - in the ideal of protecting the innocent then what’s the point?  
This world…scarred and tired, just like me. I’m still fighting for it but I’m hanging on by a thread. Don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.’ [*click*]_

_They arrived back at Boston Airport, having made good time on foot. With a cloud of Brotherhood soldiers streaming behind and around their newest Paladin, no Supermutants, Raiders or Gunners dared stick their noses out._

_Only Vin and Mac entered the old ruined airport lounge section, where now stood a large, concrete hall still containing the spent Signal Interceptor. The smell of ozone and burned plastic lingered._

_The two men synchronistically stood at their yellow power armour frames. Their armour blossomed, releasing their exhausted, sweating passengers._

_Mac loped over to the old check-in desk and retrieved a couple of towels. He threw one to Vin and wiped his own face, feeling the uncomfortable prickle of conscience rising like bile. It was no good. He had to say something. He padded up to where Vin was standing, stock-still and still rumbling with inaudible thunder. This close, Mac could practically feel the vibrations._

_When he spoke, it was softly but firmly. "I know you were just following orders but did you have to kill all those people just because Maxson said so?"_

_The storm swirled. The stormy green eyes that met the rain-dampened clear skies of MacCready's flicked slightly left and right whilst words fought to rise in Vincent's throat. When they came, they hit as hard as hailstones._

_"We had our orders. We carried them out. They would have jeopardized the main mission. When Liberty Prime is go, so are we."_

_To MacCready's ears, this sounded like so much recycled rhetoric, robotic and soulless._

_"Vin, it's me you're talking to. Try that answer again, Hudson."_

_Mac never used his surname. It startled him back to himself just enough for Vin to croak, "I was too late…had no choice."_


	3. Youth (Back to Back)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's happenin' cowboys?

Sheriff Eagle and Sheriff Hawk eyed each other down the dusty street. Their irons were strapped to their hips, hands hovering above like vultures over a kill.

"They said you were dead, Eagle."

"Well I'm no ghost, Hawk. Livin' an' breathin' an' come back to reclaim my town."

"It ain't yours no more, Eagle an' this town ain't big enough for the both of us."

"Rumour has it you saved Black Mulligan's life. He went on to kill the Blacksmith. I have proof."

"Yeah, well, um…you…you didn't return all the stolen money to the bank like you said you did! Liar!"

"Looks like we're gonna have to settle this with a duel then, Hawk. Back to back. Ten paces."

"But Vinnie, I'm gonna bump into the treehouse again!"

"Alright, make it eight. Now get back in character!"

The two boys stood back to back in the cramped space between Vincent's apartment block and the building behind the café. Vinnie was almost eleven, Vaughn his cousin was eight. They counted out their steps, swivelled and fired their cap guns.

BANG!BANG!

Vinnie looked up to the fire escape where his Pop was watching…and listening.

"Who won that time, Poppa?"

Michael Hudson grinned. "You're both gonners," he said, coming down the stairs to steal Vinnie's cowboy hat and balance it on his larger head. "That was si-mul-taneous, pardners. Looks like I'm the new Sheriff in these here parts. Call me… Sheriff Crow! Squaaawwk! Hehe. Come on boys, dinner time."


	4. Ambush (Meet Cute)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dogmeat gets ambushed!

The afternoon was warm, especially for October. Vin and Mac were taking a leisurely walk around the far side of the river at Sanctuary Hills. Dogmeat bounded alongside, feeling frisky. There hadn't been anyone in the area beside settlers, visiting Minutemen of Steel and provisioners for a long while. 

They settled down near a large tree stump to take a break. Vin threw Dogmeat a piece of grilled molerat, which he gratefully chomped. The warm sun made the canine companion feel sleepy, so he flopped down to rest whilst his human friends seemed to be licking each others' faces again. 

A gentle breeze shuffled a few dead leaves around. Dogmeat dropped his chin to his forelegs and huffed. He had started to doze when he heard those leaves stir again and just as he lifted his head, everything happened at once. A small body landed on his, with a "raooff". Vin and Mac leapt up and grabbed their guns. A rough voice yelled _"Bitchface, rip 'em!"_

Vin's gun went off. The raider hadn't hit the ground before Mac's sights were on Dogmeat's attacker but Vin shouted "HALT!"

Dogmeat wrestled with his attacker, a mucky, golden-retriever cross mutt…but there were no real bites, no malice whatsoever. Dogmeat wriggled out from underneath "Bitchface" and straddled her.

"Are they…?"

"They are. Better make sure her master didn't have any friends."

A sweep of the area yielded nothing. It had just been one man and his dog. Now, two men and two dogs headed back toward Sanctuary.

"If she's stayin' Dogmeat, she's gonna need a nicer name," Vin said. Both dogs looked up at him, tongues lolling.

"How about Beech?"

"'Cause she's sandy colored?"

"No, like the tree."

"Nah, sounds too much like the word we still don't let Duncan use."

MacCready thought awhile. I know, 'Ambuh - like saying Amber with a Boston accent? Also short for Ambush, 'cause she did that so well."

"Wouldn't have if I hadn't let you distract me so much…" Vin grumbled. "Well, how about it, girl? Ambuh?"

Ambush barked her approval and trotted close to the handsome alsatian who, in a few months, would become a proud Paw.


	5. Sonder (Outfit Swap)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 2294. Vin's hubby and kids are away and life is quiet, but not too quiet when someone comes to visit.

It was quiet. Too quiet, as Mac liked to joke. Actually, thought Vin, it was a nice change. He lounged alone in the bed. MacCready was on rotation and since Duncan kept pestering to go with him to the Castle, he'd finally given in. Shaun was on leave but had been staying at Kasumi's parents house. 

The soft click of dog paws on the hard floor made Vin shift his leg, just in time, before a whole heap of canine landed on the bed. He lay his head down with a whine.

"Oh, so you're jealous when he's here but miss him when he's gone, eh buddy?" Vin gently put his strong hand on Dogmeat's head to ruffle and scratch his ears.

He stretched and reached for his PIP-boy on the side table to check for Minuteman alerts. All quiet. One thing caught his eye, though: the date. March sixteen. It was his aunt's birthday. He checked the Provisioner roster, yes, she was due by here before midday!

Vincent's aunt, Olivia Zander the Greek-American woman who had married his dad's brother and had been mother to his cousin Vaughn, had survived the Great War. Like most pre-war people alive today, two hundred and seventeen years later, the cost of that survival was 'ghoulification': extreme radiation burning and mutation.

When they had reunited three years ago in 2291, in Hotel Rexford, Vin had been overcome with emotion. Not only did he have a surviving family member but that his Aunt Libby had met a certain Mayor MacCready on her travels. 

She had been overjoyed to see her Vinnie again, after all, when his own mother left, Olivia had stepped in to help raise him alongside her own boy, which in turn had allowed Vin's Pop to hold down a job as a mailman. 

After the Great War, Libby couldn't settle. She lived life as a caravanner and when Vincent met her again, he offered her a home in Sanctuary, which she refused.

Between Vin and Mac, after their wedding, they had persuaded her to at least stay in the Commonwealth and join the Minutemen Provisioners. Now, she had a regular route, got to stay at Sanctuary with her family for as long as she was comfortable and Vin would always know where to find her when he needed her.

He dressed quickly and unlocked his personal safe, looking for something special to give his aunt as a gift. After discarding a locket, a good quality fountain pen and a compact automatic pistol, his hand landed on an object, wrapped in clean but tattered rags.

"Perfect."

Vin spent the rest of the dwindling morning cleaning the dining room, picking flowers for the table and cooking. He even managed to bake a cake with razorgrain flour and filled it with tarberry and mutfruit preserve. When all was ready, he sat on his porch, feet up on the table, beer in hand, arms behind his head, militia hat tipped down over his eyes as he just chilled out, waiting to hear the telltale moo-duet.

* * *

"Nap time, Vinnie?" teased a gravelly, feminine voice. Vin woke with a start as Nix licked his hand. His head had lolled over to the left, muffling his good ear with his muscular upper arm. He wiped a little drool off his 'tache. 

"Aunt Libby? Hey, I've been waiting for you! Hey Nix, how's the good girl?"

His aunt smiled as Dogmeat came trotting up to engage Nix in their ritual butt-sniffing dance. "It's nice to see that you have the luxury of napping on the porch, darling. You really have made our little corner of the world a safer place, haven't you?"

"Not like I did it by myself, Aunt Libby," Vin said demurely. "Hey, I made you lunch! Uh…what time is it? You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

"Just a little after midday and no, not yet. You cooked for me? Oh, how lovely dear. You boys always were good in the kitchen." 

Vin smiled, a little melancholy staining the happiness in his eyes as it did whenever Libby made reference to her son. 

The brahmin was being unpacked at the workshop by one of the Minutemen escorts, so Libby entered her nephew's home. "Your handsome young man around?" she asked.

"All my handsome young men are out today, Libby. Mac took Duncan to the Castle, Shaun's visiting his girlfriend up north."

"Oh, that Japanese girl?"

"Japanese-American, Aunty, yeah… or…well. I guess we're all just Commonwealthers these days, huh?"

Vin served the meal and they spoke of mundane, present day things. The cake was received with a kiss and a hug and afterwards, Libby insisted on helping to clear away.

They took coffees into the livingroom. So much comfortable normality had started to creep back into Vincent's life, as if his life was finally healing. It would never look the same as it did, the scars were too plain to see but it was healing, nonetheless.

Libby drained her coffee. "Can we walk? I've got the itch to move."

"Of course! Let me just grab a couple things."

Vin grabbed his rifle and the package, then linked arms with his aunt, trailing the two dogs behind and strolled out of Sanctuary to Red Rocket. There was nobody home today. Vin missed old Sheffield, rummaging in the dirt near where he now lay at peace.

Vin's thoughts turned to the bundle he held under his jacket. 

"I've been thinking, Aunt Libby. All our provisioners are in uniform, except you. I wonder if you'd wear this?" He held out the bundle, gently uncovering the item within.

"A postman's hat? Well at least it's clean. I suppose… oh… " 

Olivia turned the hat over to see a label inside, embroidered with an employee number and name.

M. Hudson.

She ran her fingers over the lining, then stopped and dug underneath a seam. Very gently, she pulled out a small, rectangular photograph. Vincent tried to read the sondering expression on her face.

"It was my Pop's, yes. I found it in a drawer at the old apartment, pretty much all that was left. Would you wear it, Aunt Libby?"

She didn't reply but held up the scrap of printed, glossy paper in a trembling hand. Vin saw a woman's face with a kind smile. He saw his aunt, as she used to be.

"I always knew he cared for me," she croaked. "I often thought I'd married the wrong Hudson brother or wish I'd left Ryan for your fath…I mean, for your Poppa. He was such a gentleman though. I know he would have married me, if I'd divorced his brother and asked him." Ghouls don't make tears easily but a single drop traced a haphazard path down her rough cheek.

"Of course I'll wear it, darling. Here, you keep the photograph, though. I don't need reminding of that old face."

Vin took the picture and tucked it out of sight, drawing his aunt into a hug. She bent her head to fit under his chin and they just stood, feeling each others' warmth.

"Well, Vincent. That was very kind of you, " she said, placing the hat carefully over her wig. "I have something for you, in return."

"It isn't my birthday yet, Aunt Libby!"

"Well, call it an early gift then. Close your eyes!"

Vin did as he was bid. He felt leather straps and pouches pressed onto his palms and when he opened his eyes he couldn't help but choke out a sob of surprise.

It was Vaughn's leather waist bag. The one that Vin had helped his Pop choose for his cousin's birthday.The one that had always magically contained whatever the cousins needed, ever since they were eleven. Whether it was first aid supplies or change for a taxi from the bar, a pencil and paper to write down girls' (or in Vonnie's case, also boys') telephone numbers, he had never been without it.

"I didn't know you still had this." Vin embraced her again and whispered, "Thankyou, _mána_."


	6. Luxury (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 2020. Vincent and Robert Hudson are living and working together from a small apartment in downtown Boston. Vince works as an illustrator and house-husband. Rob is a professional photographer and writer. Their two young boys are step-brothers. Life is pretty cushy but it is about to get even better.

The delivery driver rang the doorbell. 

"I'll get it. Pause the game, _Rojo_."

"Ahh..ffff..frak off, Vince. Told you not to call me that."

'Heh. Sorry, Rob"

_"Better username than SolSurviva."_ "

Vince's voice floated from the open front door of the cramped apartment. "Hey there, yes, Hudson, that's right. Sure, have a nice day."

Rob gave up on the game, saved their progress and turned off the console.

"Is that what I think it is? Put it on the table, lemme open it!"

Vince Hudson, ex-U.S. staff sergeant and Rob MacCready had met in a theme bar called Rail3 in Downtown Boston. Vince had recently lost his wife, a lawyer, when a case she was working on with the Feds involving a crooked mental institute had gone wrong. An escaped patient, Conrad K. had ambushed her on her way to drop off her baby son at daycare, kidnapped the child and murdered her. Rob had seen him through his camera lense and taken a few snapshots as Conrad fled, noting the suspicious behaviour and had reported it to the police. His own child was very ill in hospital at the time and he was struggling to pay the insurance fees.

Rob had lost his own wife two years earlier, when a driver who was high on drugs and his equally inebriated passengers had slammed into their car. Lucia was gone, instantly. He was lucky to escape with Duncan in his arms before the car exploded and took the 'zombies' out with it.

So they met at the bar. Vince, not able to let the Detective handle the case alone, was following his own leads. He'd met with a previous employee of the Boston Mental Institute, one Doctor Amari, who recalled some valuable information that eventually, along with Rob's eyewitness report and photographic evidence, solved the case just a few weeks later. Vince was quickly reunited with his baby, Shaun.

Rob MacCready was a professional photographer, specialising in long-distance shots. He used to work for a rather disreputable magazine called The Gunthers but since his son got sick, he'd quit that well-paid but morally damaging job and become a freelance photographer. He also collected graphic novels and was working on writing his own in his spare time.

They'd started meeting regularly at Rail3 and become drinking buddies. Eventually Rob had opened up about his own son, leading Vince to mention the rare condition to his cousin Dr. Zander who was a diagnostician. This in turn led to little Duncan's cure.

Conrad K. was caught and convicted and eventually, two years later, Vince summoned the courage to come out to his friend and ask Rob out on a date. They married a few years later.

Now, in 2020, Shaun is four years old and Duncan is eight. Both boys were at school when the package arrived.

Robert MacCready grabbed a craft knife from Vince's art table and cut the plastic webbing, then very carefully slit the tape. They opened the cardboard flaps and Rob took out the cover letter.

"Dear Messrs Hudson,

We are delighted to enclose the first run of your graphic novel "OutFall, volume 2" We are sure this is destined to be an even bigger success than your first publication. 

I am pleased to announce that OutFall, vol. 1 won Best New Comic Series at the Hewlett awards, with a special mention for the issue 'Frozen Banana In Space'! Please find enclosed your grand prize check. 

We'll talk Comic Con next week, fellas,

Stan Quinlan,  
Executive Publisher  
DarkSun Comics"

Vince drew out the check and staggered toward the sofa, sitting heavily.

"We won? I don't fuckin' believe it… "  
Rob joined him, putting an arm around his husband's shoulder and felt his knees give as he looked at the long string of numbers. He muttered a "Damn…" and collapsed onto Vince's lap. Moments later they were whooping and kissing and jumping up and down in a frenzied, red-faced celebration.

* * *  
That evening, the boys and their young aunt, Rob's baby sister, stayed at home with their neighbor Daisy, their honourary aunt and regular babysitter. 

Vince had called his cousin/stepbrother Vaughn, long-distance where he was helping to set up treatment centres overseas.

Robert's mum Bonnie MacCready sat at the table, smiling nervously, next to Olivia and Michael Hudson. Vince's Pop had retired after a serious heart-attack a few years back. His step-mum had once been his aunt. She had been married to his Pop's abusive brother until Vaughn was in his mid-twenties and it all came out into the open. She divorced Ryan and married the right brother this time. Vincent and Vaughn had been delighted to officially become the brothers they always felt they had been. The family browsed their menus, sat in the Japanese restuarant.

"Nakano's?" grumbled Rob. "I like Taka's Noodlebar better."

"Kenji does good noodles too. Plus this place is classy, not to mention indoors."

"Yeah but you're gonna order fish again, aren't you?"

"Tempura, sure am."

Rob grimaced. He never had been into seafood.

"So, son. Your painting finally paid off, huh?" Michael Hudson said, with a warm grin. "Robert, Vincent, I'm so proud of you both."

"Oh me too, boys! Whoever said comics were for kids?" Bonnie MacCready asked.

"You did, Ma," her son replied, with a smirk.

"So," said Olivia, "does this mean you can afford to move into an actual house, near us? I hear they've built modern, luxury, family-oriented houses near Concord?"

"What, that Sanctuary Hills place?" Robert asked. 

Rob and Vince looked at each other and smiled. 

Vincent nodded. "Sounds like home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, this is not our crazy C-virus stricken 2020 but a regular year because who wants to read about lockdown, really?!


	7. Pre- & Post-Game Life (Upside Down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Subtitle: "Relative Realities"
> 
> He'd lost his cousin long before he entered Vault 111. They'd been as close as brothers and he often wished that his family could have known him.
> 
> Fate briefly grants his wish...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-written with @radioactive-synth, to whom Vaughn Zander belongs.

The early morning mist was starting to lift and the sun was just peeking over the ridge on his left, making the Red Rocket statue on the roof glow as if it were about to take off. Not one but three provisioners and their loaded brahmin were taking up the entire road, headed to Sanctuary.

He decided to leap up the hilly verge to the right, preoccupied with trying to remember if he'd left the part he needed at the Red Rocket workshop and hoping he'd find it there. He didn't notice the oddly enlarged, luminescent irradiated thistle, a bulbous growth lurking at its heart. He would have walked straight past it but his pet barrelled into him. His foot caught on the stem, the bulb burst open and emitted a cloud of particles. He drew a surprised breath, dragging the irridescent motes into his lungs and passed out.

* * *  
When he came to, there was a man on the ground beside him.

Vaughn heard someone coughing close to him. When his vision finally cleared, he couldn't believe who he was seeing. Big shoulders, auburn hair, moustache in the shape of a horseshoe, all belonging to someone he knew so well.

He opened his mouth but no sound came from it. He felt his emotions overcome him when he heard the man speak.

* * *  
Vin's head felt strange, sore where it had hit the ground but not really painful. He remembered his feet getting tangled in plant stems and dog body.  
"Dogmeat!" he tried to yell. It came out as a coughing fit, then he remembered breathing something in. Pollen? His eyes felt sticky and reluctant to open.

As Vincent pulled himself up he became aware of a man laying nearby. He cleared his throat. "Hey, sorry buddy, you okay?"

Vin blinked away the stickiness and opened his eyes fully to stare at the bespectacled man. "Oh..no.. musta hit my head…"  
* * *

The pollen got in Vaughn's nose, making him sneeze so much, his glasses nearly fell off. He used his sleeve to wipe any pollen left from his face, then adjusted his glasses. His headache started to set in, but he still heard the other person's voice. But something was off. He had not heard 'that' voice in a long time. His instinct told him to put his hand over 'Ares', his trusty furious power fist, attached to his back.

'I am fine', he finally said in a low voice.

But when he took a better look at the man, he didn't know whether to be alarmed or to cry. That auburn hair, that horseshoe moustache, those broad shoulders...it could only belong to one person.

'It can't be... did I die and end up in the after life?', Vaughn murmured more to himself than anyone else, not believing what his eyes saw.

Vincent's hand fell from where it had been searching for bumps or blood. There were neither. He took a tentative step forward, his hand reaching out to the other man. Slowly, he made contact with the man's sleeve. The tactile sensation confirmed it: he _wasn't_ seeing things.

" _Vonnie?_ "

Vaughn had flinched at the contact, trying to process what, or who, he saw. The touch felt very real. He looked again at the man who had called him by his nickname and with a shaking hand, he finally put his hand over the other's. 

'Vinnie? Where we are? Is this the after life? I can't be dead, right?', Vaughn asked in a panicked tone. He could barely hold his tears that swelled his eyes.

Vin finally succumbed to his own emotions. He couldn't articulate how wonderful it was to see his dear cousin, the man who had always been as close to him as a brother. The hand that landed on his own was warm, with a familiar softness beneath the callouses. Vin let out a gasping sob and embraced Vaughn in a bear hug.

There was no doubt that it was Vinnie, by the way he was holding him. Vaughn finally let go of his emotions and responded to the hug, putting his head onto his cousin's shoulder. It may have been a dream or a result of hallucination, but it felt real. As real as the tears that fell from his eyes.

Vin finally pulled away and held out his wrist. In a choked voice, he said "Take my pulse! Am I dead, Doc? "

Vaughn had laughed while he checked the pulse on Vin's wrist. His heartbeat seemed faster than normal, but it was understandable. Even his own heartbeat was faster. 

'You are alive just like me', Vaughn said, letting go of Vin's wrist but put his hand onto his shoulder. 'Did you step in a time machine or what? 'Cause I can't find any other explanation'.

Vaughn had another theory, but it couldn't be possible. The Institute was destroyed two years ago, and he had never mentioned Vin to Shaun, so why would there be a synth version?

***  
Well I don't know what on this fu..uhgh..this freakin' scorched earth is going on but it's good to see you, Vaughn. Better'n good. Damn, I need a smoke.

Vin reached into his leather jacket to check for a cigar. " _Motherdi_.. uh..No cigar. Oh, wait. Bless you Mac," he muttered nervously pulling out a cigarette with the fliplighter.

Vaughn had shaken his head, being amused at his cousin's hesistance to swear. To think that he learned how to swear from him... His eyes went to his right, where the sign for non smoking was displayed.

'Can't you see you are not allowed to smoke here? And since when do you try to stop yourself from swearing?', Vaughn asked, his smile not leaving his face, and put his hand onto the wall, leaning a bit. He noticed that Vin had not changed much, except for a couple of new scars, one to his right eye, and a long scar on the left.

Vin waved the first comment away with a frown and a dismissive gesture. The second question though, he addressed.

"I'm a parent now…again. I gotta watch my mouth round a six year old an' a twelve year old. Besides, my boyfriend would give me a helluva lecture if I taught li'l MacDunc any bad words.

'So two sons and a boyfriend? That is new, coming from you', Vaughn said, as he crossed his arms over his chest, giving a glance to his own wedding ring. 'Who is the prince charming that finally swept you off your feet?'

Vin went red as a beetroot and stared at his feet for a moment. "His name's Robert Joseph MacCready but he hates his first names, I barely get away with R.J. I just call him Mac. As for our sons, Duncan is his boy. He lost his wife, just like I lost Nora a few months after we had Shaun. Kinda. My boy…well. It's complicated, Vonnie. You?

'Nora? You too lost her too...?', Vaughn asked, but seeing that his cousin was avoiding his gaze, he continued: 'I'm recently married to the loves of my life. I know you will think it is weird, but umm...', he drifted off, not being able to word it out.

"Go on, Vonnie?"

Vaughn touched the ring on his finger. 

'They are two wonderful people. Very different from each other, but both have kind hearts. Nick Valentine and Hancock. And we raise our son, Oliver. Which is also complicated if I need to explain.'

Vin let out a surprised huff, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline. He backed up to the wall so that he could lean on it.

"Hancock, married? And _Nick_ too? Whoah, hang on. What did you mean by 'You lost Nora too?' You were never with Nora…unless…"

Vin's expression twisted into disbelief with overtones of accusation.

'Look, I don't know how we are standing next to each other, given that the war took you in 2071!', Vaughn's tone raised a bit, and he rubbed the side of his head, trying to focus. He still remembered that letter, that was given by another postman, so his uncle Michael wouldn't receive the news while he was at work. He remembered how he felt sick even before opening the letter. How he felt that a part of him died that day. And how his mom and his uncle reacted when they heard the news...

'And yes I married Nora. I am pretty sure I remember that. We dated since i entered med school. How can you not remember that? It was you who encouraged me to date her.'

Vin stared at his cousin for a long moment, the forgotten cigarette between his oil-stained fingers shrugging off its ash onto the ground.

"That's not how it happened. You were away at med-school, I started dating her whilst I was on furlough. You were at our wedding in '67. _You_ were the one who got drafted overseas and got killed in '71. Same year as both our Dads. I was a wreck for months, Vonnie!"

Vin's eyes glistened as he started choking up again. "I missed you so damn much!"

Vaughn felt another set of tears in his eyes. In 2071, he had not been okay for a long time.

'Don't you think I didn't feel the same way? When we received the letter... neither of us were okay. You were my best friend and like a brother to me. I missed you too.' Vaughn said in a trembling voice, removing his glasses and wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

The two men heard barking and a voice responding. Footsteps approached, coming through the garage. "What's happenin', cowboy?" said MacCready, as he leaned in the doorway.

Vaughn would have known that voice anywhere. Looking at the younger man, he instantly knew it was MacCready by the blue eyes. But those blue eyes now looked at him with confusion. Did he not recognize him?

'MacCready? I guess you should know me?', Vaughn asked, glancing at his cousin who smiled at Mac and opened his left arm. Mac drifted over to slip effortlessly under Vincent's one-armed embrace. 

"No idea, man, sorry. Vin, what's going on?"

"Fuck knows. _Sorry-_. But…. this is my _cousin_ , Vaughn. Vonnie, this is Mac, the love of my post-apocalyptic life."

Vaughn had raised an eyebrow, being more confused, but decided to play it safe for now. The 'Mac' he knew was different and had another one who called him 'her love'. He extended his hand to shake it with Mac.

'Nice to see the prince charming that finally managed to grab this one's attention', he laughed nervously.

"Yeah, well it took him long enough!" Mac said in response. To Vin, he stage-whispered, "Thought you said your cousin died before Shaun was born?"

"He did. Yet here he is. Either someone slipped me some psycho or.. y'know what? I'm just running with it. He says he's married to Nick.."

"Valentine? But he's…"

"..and Hancock."

At this revelation, MacCready broke. "Fuckin' no way. Mr. 'Of the People' told me himself, he'd never ring that bell!"

Vin held his hand out. Mac reluctantly dug in his pocket and placed a cap on his boyfriend's palm.

Vaughn looked with amusement at the exchange. But he was more amused to hear MacCready swearing. Now he would owe Hancock 10 caps. 

'And I thought he had same fate as he says I had. What a weird world we are living in', Vaughn said, running his hand through his hair.

As if on cue, he heard clucking that surely belonged to Hera. The chicken in a blue sweater, bearing the Minutemen symbol, that was handcrafted by his mom, appeared next to his feet, looking at him with expectation. Well at least someone else recognized him. 

'What it is, girl, you lost me?', he said in a very soft tone. He bent down and took her in his arms, then put her on his shoulder, so Hera could perch comfortably.

Hera looked at Mac and clucked in a happy tone, then looked at Vin and clucked in question.

'Hera, this is my cousin, Vin. You know him, from the photo?' he spoke to the chicken in the same soft tone. The chicken tilted her head, and gave a cluck of approval. 'Vinnie, this is my chicken, Hera, or how she likes to think of herself, the head of the family', he said in his neutral tone again, and Hera clucked once.

Vin jerked back, looking warily at the radchicken. "Don't bring that thing near me, Dr. Dolittle," warned Vincent. As children, Vaughn had been the one to harbour secret pets, strays he'd found all over. He usually hid them in the treehouse, much to little Vinnie's dismay. He'd never quite got over the Chicken Incident.

Hera let out an angry sound, but Vaughn calmed her down with a hand on her head, petting her gently.

'She has a name, you know. And I swear she is not like that chicken I stolen from the market', Vaughn laughed, remembering that he'd caught a chicken from a nearby market and hid it in their treehouse. Only he forgot to mention that to his cousin, who had an unpleasant surprise when he went in their little playground place. Poor Vinnie had not entered that place for weeks. 'Plus, she doesn't have wings so she won't hit you. Come on, give her a try!', he encouraged Vin, getting a bit closer.

MacCready had put a calming hand on Vin's chest, but his large boyfriend still strained away from the flightless bird. 

"I'll pass, thanks," Vin said. Dogmeat slunk round their legs to sniff at Hera.

"Hey, look, Dogmeat likes her," said Mac in the very same voice he used to calm Duncan after a settlement cat had hissed at him. 

"Just, put the ch..put Hera down over there, Vonnie. Please," Vin pleaded. Vaughn could see that his right hand was tremoring.

Vaughn took Hera in his arms and put her on the ground, giving her a pat on her back.

'Go play with Dogmeat, girl', he told her, and gave another pat when the chicken started to comment. 'It is ok, girl, just go', he ordered her in a more firm tone, making the chicken finally go and went with Dogmeat. 

'I'm sorry, I didn't meant to stress you', he apologized to Vin, putting his hand over Vin's arm.

Vincent drew a deep breath, releasing it slowly through pursed lips. 

"I… I get triggered by the stupidest things. PCSS, after Anchorage, Vonnie. I lost J.J., Fischer… Sparks lost his legs, I lost most of my hearing in this ear. I tried to drown it with Buffout and Bourbon. I eventually cleaned up because Nora refused to have kids until I did… then the Vault…finding Shaun…I started using again after I killed..after the Railroad. After ending my son. But Mac here rescued me from myself."

"Hey, ditto, Huggybear," MacCready added in a soft voice.

Vaughn knew about this event. Sparks was one of the few survivors from that battle and the only mutual friend that returned. Vaughn had visited him in the hospital where Sparks was recovering and had told Vaughn everything. Both couldn't stop crying for a while. Vaughn had kept contact with Sparks even after that.

And what had he meant by 'ending his son', Vaughn wondered. It seemed too similar to his own story. And the Railroad? What was he talking about? He felt like he'd ended up in another universe. This might seem funnier to him later…

The men heard two other voices calling out for Hera, one raspy and one rich, gravelly voice. These two were at least Vaughn's. Hera had heard her name being called and rushed past the men, clucking, making Vin flinch a bit. 

'Excuse me', Vaughn said, as he went towards the source of the voices. He had a lot to say about his own side of story but he needed his husbands to back him up.

Mac turned those blue eyes to Vin again, this time shadowed with concern as well as by the brim of his ever-present hat. "Seriously, Vin, what's going on?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm dreami.."(Mac pinched him) "..ow. That hurt, mirelurk! Ok, maybe there's a weird rip in space-time caused by all these nukes."

"Yeah, or maybe we're just characters in some comic book. Whatever. I heard Hancock's an' Nick's voices but _our_ Mayor and Dic..sorry, Detective sure don't know any sweater-wearin' wingless chickens. They're **his** , aren't they? I hope I'm not gonna meet myself, that'd be too freaky."

'This is so fucked up, what kind of hallucinogenic plant did I even run into?', Vaughn murmured to himself, while he went on Hera's trail back to his husbands. He still couldn't find a logical explanation for what happened. Vin felt too real to be a dream. But why didn't MacCready recognize him? If he was in a dream, how was Hera present too? Not to mention Nick and Hancock.

Hera clucked angrily and scratched the ground with her claws. She was obviously nervous, probably feeling what he felt too. The other two cooed at her, trying to calm her down, but then their attention turned to Vaughn.

'Hey doll, we thought you were busy with the merchants at Red Rocket', Nick said with a smile on his face.

'Thought your chicken missed you but we didn't want her to go on her own', Hancock added as he gave Vaughn a kiss on his cheek. 

Vaughn let out a loud sigh, a clear sign that he was not okay.

'What's wrong?', Nick asked as he put an arm around Vaughn. 

Hera had calmed down from scratching the ground but continued to cluck.

'Hera, shhh!', Vaughn ordered the chicken, at which she stopped. 'This is so fucking weird, I don't know where to start.'

'Love, nothing is normal in our lives', Hancock laughed, as he wrapped an arm around Vaughn's waist.

'Even seeing my presumed dead cousin alive and well, with MacCready?', he blurted out, and laughs nervously. He couldn't allow himself to break down now.

'MacCready... but he is in Sanct-'

'Doesn't matter where my MacCready is, he'd better stay there. This one that is here isn't ours. And both of you are mine. Look, let us go and talk to Vin and sort this out.'

'You sure that the Institute didn't made a synth versi-', Hancock started, but he got interrupted by Vaughn.

'I thought that too, but it has no logic. Even if Shaun had made a synth Vincent, he couldn't have recovered the memories from two centuries old ashes. And why recreate MacCready without getting rid of the original?'

'Do you remember what happened before you saw him?', Nick asked.

'I wanted to get to Sanctuary faster but I tripped and landed in that big mutated thistle. That is what I remember.'

'Babe, you sure you didn't hallucinate? Those plants can make you very high if you aren't careful. And I know that.', Hancock said, circling his hand onto Vaughn's back.

'No! Let us go and talk', Vaughn said, putting his arms around them and drag them after him. Hera has followed right behind him.

"Here they come," pointed MacCready.

"They look the same as our guys except… wow, they really are all…together."

"I didn't even know Nick coul.."

"Can it, Mac. Hey Vonnie. So, you gonna introduce me to your, um…husbands? I mean, I know _them_ but…

Vaughn could not resist a large smile, this time the smile being sincere. He felt so proud whenever he presented his newlywed husbands. Hard to believe that there were just a few in the Commonwealth who did not know about the trio formed from the General, the Detective and the Mayor.

'Gentlemen, they are Nick Valentine-Zander', he nodded to Nick, who he used his free hand to grab the brim of his hat and bent his head slightly in greeting, 'and Hancock-Zander', nodding to Hancock, who saluted with a short wave of his hand. 'I believe there is no need for me to present these gentlemen, as you know of my cousin and MacCready, or should I say just Mac?'.

"Just Mac is fine. This is freakin' weird, like somethin' outta Astoundingly Awesome Tales, right, Hancock?

'Oh we know, but apparently this place isn't ours.', Hancock commented with a chuckle.

"Well, congratulations, cuz! Hancock, that was a surprise, you settling. Partner, well, you sure deserve some happiness."

"Your cousin beat you to it…" mumbled Mac.

"I heard that. We're good as, Mac." He turned to Vaughn. "We're living together on the corner, near the tree in what was Mr. Smith's old house. I couldn't bring myself to move back in to our..mine and Nora's old place."

'Neither could I stay in the old house. Codsworth and I designed a new house, the last one on the street, close to the big tree. Two floor house, big kitchen, bathroom, second floor is just for Oliver, our son. If your story matches mine, then maybe you would know about the child. He renamed himself after his grandma. Talking about her, she is alive and she moved into my old house. She misses you daily, you know.', Vaughn said, his smile fading into a sadder one.

'How about we find somewhere to sit?', Nick suggested, as he felt Vaughn shift his weight onto him more. His left leg was acting up again. 'Maybe you show us around, as it doesn't seem to be our Red Rocket', he continued, looking around.

"Sure! There's so much I wanna tell you, Vonnie. Hey Mac, is Diesel home?"

"No, he's due back any moment though. Went to pick up that P.A.shipment from Rowdy, remember."

"Alright, well, he won't mind…if he ends up joining us in this weirdness."

Vin stubbed out the cigarette he'd barely burned down and showed the trio through the small door to the left of the concrete outbuilding by the garage door. Not much had changed inside: the other door was blocked by a milk machine, the open windows by two magazine shelves, both full. A Nuka Cola machine stood near the far door. Scuff marks on the ground told how it was often moved to block that entrance, something that even Vin would probably have to be in power armour to shift. Those things had weighted bases.

Aside from the garage, not much had changed from its original state. The large room had been expanded with the addition of another room which contained a power armour frame that had what looked like low stairs and rails next to it. At Nick's puzzled face, Vin explained, "Oh, that's Ingram's frame. I built it so she could escape that rig o' hers for a bit when she's earthbound and it needs work."

The store area now had comfortable red and white seating and a bed could be glimpsed in the back office. Just outside, a wooden shack had been erected and a few concrete foundations were in place.

Vin read his cousin's subtle expression. "Yeah, it's a work in progress. Here, take a load off. I have so much I want to… I just never thought I'd get this chance, Vonnie." Vin's smile was tender, his green eyes sparkling.

The Red Rocket surely looked different, but still in a working condition. Vaughn had neglected his own Red Rocket but only recently it had been converted into a trader's hub. He preferred that Sanctuary remained just for his family and trusted settlers.

They took seats, Vaughn being in the middle of his husbands. Hera clucked for attention and Vaughn noticed Vin's change of expression in fear.

'Feggari mou, would you please take Hera under your coat? She scares Vin', Vaughn had asked Nick, nodding to the chicken. Vin pulled a grumpy frown at Vaughn openly outing his poultry fear.

'Sure. Is there anyone that she didn't scare yet?', Nick laughed softly, as he took the chicken in his arms, then on his lap, and covered her with his coat. Hera started to cluck, but Nick put a finger on her beak: 'Be a good girl and let us talk.' he requested her, and she made herself comfortable, with just her head poking under the coat.

'I, too, have a lot to say, Vinnie', Vaughn said. He did not want to mention how many times he'd been to his grave and talked about his adventures. 'But I'll let you talk first. Start with when you married Nora. What year?', he continued, running his fingers slightly over the chain of the tags he wore under his clothes. Vin's tags.

Hancock had noticed this nervous habit his husband usually did when he was stressed and grabbed his hand. They both looked at each other and smiled.

Vin relaxed a little now that the 'little dinosaur', as he called them, was under Valentine's control. He relaxed even more when MacCready, sat up on the counter, passed him a cigar. "Thanks, lover," he muttered and lit it before answering.

"It was '67. You were there, Vaughn… at least, a version of you was. We met Nora in April '63, remember? You were my Best Man. Patched me up at my bachelor party, too," Vin said, letting out a small laugh.

'I remember meeting Nora with you. It was one afternoon, when you had a break from college. We went out in town to eat something, and bumped into a lady. Then we bumped each other while trying to get her purse', Vaughn laughed, remembering that moment. Even though back then, he was still in a relationship with Tom, he felt lovestruck by that beautiful lady. Vin was too, yet when he entered med school and broke up with Tom, he was encouraged by his cousin to start dating Nora. Maybe that is where their story diverged.

'When did you start to date her? Or more like, how did you find her again? And what do you mean that I patched you? That scar isn't from a deathclaw or something?' Vaughn asked. He had so many questions.

"Hah, I can still remember how hard your head was! You broke up with that fellah, Tom and went off to med school. Vault-Tec took over the college and you all had to stay on through July to get up to speed with the new structuring, so I started dating her whilst on leave from bootcamp. Yeah, I went looking for her. Turned out she was working at an office nearby, lucky for me." MacCready squeezed his hand.

As for the scar.. war wound. No, heh, J.J. got so frickin' loaded after you turned him down. Crashed into the barbecue which I hadn't assembled properly, a bit of it sheared off an' tore my face up."

'So you remember Tom. Even he is alive, stays at the Slog. But what do you mean, Vault-Tec took over the med school? This did not happen, at least not in my story.', Vaughn said, tilting his head slightly in confusion. He knew that Vault-Tec had started to acquire more buildings in the city, but taking over the med school? That did not happen. 'Did J.J. try to flirt with me? I turned him down and he hurt you? What the fuck was his damage? And how was your wedding?'

"I haven't met Tom at my Slog. Maybe he didn't make it. Yeah, the army sub-contracted Vault-Tec to run your medschool. They needed field medics overseas. You trained up, got drafted out… I lost you. And your dad. And my Pop, all in '71. I looked after Aunt Libby, best I could. Sold Mistress to buy Codsworth for Nora."

Vin sniffed and wiped at his nose. "John-Jules fell in love with you, man. You were too scared of your dad to do anything about it. He didn't mean to hurt me. As for the wedding…" Vin sighed. "Honestly, I try not to think about it these days. It was perfect. Remembering hurts." 

MacCready leaned over forwards from his perch to embrace Vin, sitting on the chair below. Vincent wrapped a muscular arm over MacCready's wiry ones. From within the embrace, he said, "I got this adorable goofball now to make all new happy memories with. He's my guardian angel, my hero." At that, Mac shimmied off the counter to shamelessly sit right on Vin's lap.

"You got that right, cowboy."

The three other men smiled at their exchange of affection, but then Vaughn tried to process what he heard. He thought that is where their stories had shifted from each other. He never got drafted in the war, all thanks to his mom that managed to fake his medical documents, making him unfit for the army. His expression became neutral again at the thought of his father. He regretted breaking from Tom, but he didn't regret any moment spent with Nora.

'I think I told you that I prefer to not call that man 'dad'. He never deserved the title', Vaughn said with vitriol in his voice, at which his husbands put their hands onto his back, and he took a deep breath. 'I didn't care when I heard the news. And mom had divorced him before he left, as I told her everything. We planned to move out, but when we heard about Ryan's death, we decided to stay. But your dad... he was not okay. We took care of him, but then we received the letter about you...', he made a break, took off his glasses and ran his hand over his eyes.

'If you need to get out to calm down, just say it', Hancock suggested, his hand moving to Vaughn's head.

Hera let out a small soft clucking, and Nick used a hand to quiet her, the other one running over Vaughn's arm.

'No, no, it is ok. I must say it.', Vaughn has put back his glasses and let out a sniff. Taking a deep breath, he continued: 'I felt that my entire world crashed down. It was like a part of me was taken away. Mom was then looking out for me and your dad. But he... was gone two weeks later. I'm so sorry,' Vaughn got a tissue out of his waist bag to wipe his eyes. 'Then the army took over the clinic and we all lost our jobs. If Nora hadn't have helped me get a new job, I would had been lost. We married two years later. It was just mom in attendance from my side of the family. I wished that you were there to walk me. But the worst thing is that we argued before you left. You arrived at the clinic I was working back then, and I tried to made you stay, 'cause I had that bad feeling, and those are usually true. But you were stubborn just like always. We argued and you stormed out the clinic. That was the last time I saw you alive. For a long time, I thought that…' Vaughn's voice cracked a bit, his eyes now filled with tears, 'that you were angry with me.' 

Vaughn finally broke down crying, not being able to hold all the emotions he had repressed that day. Hancock shifted to embrace Vaughn from side, and Nick moved a bit, careful to not bother Hera and to not let her out, wrapping an arm around Vaughn's shoulders. They both tried to calm him down.

Vincent suddenly stood and moved over to where Vaughn was seated between his husbands, who moved to make space, knelt up in front of him and caught him in a firm embrace. He, too, cried a few tears on Vaughn's shoulder.

After a moment, he pulled away to look his cousin in those steel-grey eyes. "Vaughn, trust me, I wasn't angry at you." He sighed and continued, "I would have been caught between a rock and a hard place. You never did fully comprehend what obligations the army puts you under, how bad the penalties were for disobeying. I couldn't 'just stay', as much as you wanted me to. I'd've been frustrated. I'm sorry that… the me you knew back then lashed out. Bet I seriously regretted that too. For now, this moment, however long this weirdness lasts, know that I love you cousin… brother." Vincent gave Vaughn one last, tight hug before standing, wiping a hand down his moustache in that familiar, characteristic way and reaching for a ragged handkerchief to wipe the tears and sniffles away.

Vaughn took a deep breath and wiped his eyes, accepted the water bottle Hancock gave and took a few sips. He felt relieved; how long he'd wanted to hear these words from Vin. 

'Maybe you don't know how much this means to me, Vinnie. I love you too', he smiled up to his cousin.

"So…. your Shaun. It was longer than you thought, huh? The boy was waiting for you? Who's left in your world, Vonnie? Did it leave a crater?" Vin couldn't wait for each reply, he just had to get the questions out. He was starting to feel a little strange.

'Oh man, it was such a fucked up situation, I don't know if it's too early to laugh about it', Vaughn said, rubbing the sides of his head. 'Well... maybe you were in the same situation, got out the Vault, feeling cold, starved and scared. But Nick helped me through this', he turned to Nick, who smiled in return. 'Took over the Minutemen leadership, but we had nothing. I also met a wonderful lady, Debbie Gaines; we are close as siblings. I think you would like her. We both joined the Brotherhood so we can gather intel over the Commonwealth and supplies. But we also gained a new friend and trusted ally. I guess you know who I mean. But Maxson... I can't stand him. He can't listen to reason, or to anyone else. We did ended up brokering a peaceful truce. But I made some other friends in the Brotherhood. You mentioned Ingram, we know each other too. Cade and Teagan too as well as some other recruits. But neither me nor Debbie go to the airport.', Vaughn stopped for a bit, to take another deep breath. 'Slowly, but steadily, we managed to rebuild the Minutemen. Almost all settlements trust us, and Goodneighbor became allied too.'

'More than allies, you mean', Hancock added.

Vaughn turned his head to him and smiled, then turned back to Vin and continued: 'Diamond City has our support too. Now about Shaun... well I guess you know the story too? Hunted down the murderer, then found a way in the Institute? Well, Shaun was not ten years old as I had perceived him to be, he was sixty years old.', he laughed a bit, 'it is funny, right? The son older than his father? But I was nothing to him but an experiment and muscle on the ground. 'Cause I helped him get back three synths, the Railroad branded me as a traitor and banished me. If that was not enough, Shaun was not willing to listen to reason. I could swear that I saw my father in his eyes. He was cold, ruthless, he thought that he was always right, and did not know what emotions were. He _fuckin'_ called his own mother 'collateral damage'! Who the hell says that?', Vaughn's tone became higher, and he took another short break. 'Two months, that was my limit. I could not stand hearing all the insults from others. I nearly strangled one of them, and Shaun had kicked me out, but not before insulting and threatening me. Just like Ryan did,' he sighed loudly and continued: 'I fell into depression after that. I could not sleep, I could not eat, I could not even get out the house. If it weren't for these two', he put his hands over his husbands, 'I wouldn't be alive. But then Shaun launched an attack on Sanctuary, putting my new family in danger. That was the last straw. We went into the Institute to destroy it and Shaun was on his deathbed. Even in his last moments he was disappointed in me. We were looking for the child, but he was already waiting in the teleportation room. I... I nearly cried when he called me 'dad'. We took him home and adopted him. We told him who he really is, and who Shaun was and he didn't wanted to be associated with him so he renamed himself after his grandma.'

Vaughn reached into his jacket pocket and showed Vin and Mac a picture of Oliver: 'There he is, our pride and joy. He is so much like you, Vinnie. He loves all the mechanical stuff, and even repaired your Mistress of Mystery. He loves to hear about uncle Vin.'

Vin took the photo and looked at it. The kid really did look like a young version of Vaughn, minus the glasses.

'And about mom? She survived the bombs. She is with us in Sanctuary, and moved into my old house.'

Vaughn took another photo, this time with his family. There was him, Nick, Hancock, Oliver, Codsworth, Hera, Dogmeat, another dog, and-

'That's mom', Vaughn pointed out. 'Changed, but she is still the same mom I always knew. She organized our wedding!', he said, showing his wedding ring, the other two imitating his gesture.

Vin gave back the photos.

'So overall? The Minutemen are stronger than ever, the Castle is developing, the Brotherhood stays peaceful, the Railroad hates me, even though Deacon believes in me and comes to help, often and I couldn't be happier with the men I love, and happy with our son.' Vaughn smiled, and Hera clucked for attention.

'And with the chicken we love. You know she is the leader of a pack of animals? A deathclaw, a radscorpion, a mutant hound, and 4 dogs. So yea, she can be scary but she is actually cute', he nodded to Hera, which she still was under Nick's coat.

Vin had resumed smoking his cigar during Vaughn's story but stubbed out the remaining third of it when he finished. Vin was silent for a long while before he managed to speak again.

"If it wasn't gonna be me in the freezer I guess it was gonna be you, huh? Our stories are similar. I met Preston soon after I stumbled out of Sanctuary. Fought off raiders and a deathclaw, helped a few folks out. Garvey asked me to be his General. I figured I'd buy time to get used to this place, earn a few caps. You ever miss dollars an' cents? Huh."

Vaughn nodded with a smile on his face: 'You remember that your Pop started to gather caps for Nuka World? Too bad I couldn't find the stash. So what did you do? Did you accept the role? How about the Brotherhood and the Railroad?'

"I tried to find Diamond City. Ended up finding Goodneighbor…and hired myself a boyfriend," Vin smirked at Mac as the sniper elbowed him in the ribs. Vin said 'ow' but chuckled. His smile soon faded again. 

I found ol' Valentine soon after - didn't get to know the Brigadier-General (that's you, Hancock) 'til much later. When Mac and I emerged from Fort Hagen and saw the Prydwen... I felt some real hope for the first time. Signed up, quietly joined the…the Railroad too."

Vaughn spotted the tremors in Vin's right limbs begin, saw Mac quickly grab his right hand and try to cover them.

"I just had one goal: to get Shaun back. I didn't join any organisation for real, not even the Institute when I got there…and I only got in with the Brotherhood's help by…

"You don't have to say it, Vin," Mac soothed.

"Yes, yes I do. I took out the Railroad. They weren't entirely innocent. Where d'you think they got those new personalities they put in their so-called rescued synths? It wasn't just the Institute kidnapping people. I put them all down, Vaughn. Hardest order I ever followed but I did it because I believed it was right. Wish I'd had a chance to talk them round… even though I know it would never have worked.

It was all to get my son back…but after, after I found out the truth.… I can't laugh about it, Vaughn. I brought that man into the world and I…I took him out of it. With Kellogg's gun. Told myself it was equal parts mercy and revenge. Yeah, he used us alright.

After that… I took in my little Shaun. He has my hair, some of my green irises but with Nora's shape to them. He kinda reminds me of you, too Vonnie. Yeah. So now I've created the Minutemen of Steel. Remember that saying my Pop used to use? "Always leave the world better than you found it." Well, I'm trying to do just that. Heh, I'm even talking Arthur round, bit by bit. Never known anyone more stubborn than me!"

"Oh… I found Pop's postman hat in the old apartment. Caps stash was gone but I'd forgotten about that. We never did get that place rented out again."

Vaughn looked at Vin's saddened expression. He could see that he had regrets, especially with the Railroad. Vaughn knew, too, how stubborn they were. Despite trying to explain that he had attempted to gather the Institute's trust, Desdemona had branded him a traitor. Not even Deacon could help him, but he still remained his friend. 

He came closer to Vin and put a hand on his shoulder: 'I'm sorry you needed to go through that. I can't judge that you did right or wrong with the Railroad.'

He could hear scoffs from his husbands, turned and with a short glance made them silent.

'I see that you have regrets and you try to do your best. The fact that you managed to unite 2 factions? That is incredible. I'm very proud of you', Vaughn said in a calming tone, reaching to hug him.

Breaking the hug, he continued: 'And you also found love again. I'm glad you finally figured out your own heart', he said with a grin on his face. 'I really hope you two will be happy together for a long time.'

Vincent had softened in Vaughn's arms, his shaking subsided. When they parted, Vin said, "Thanks Vonnie, I think I needed to hear that."

He smiled warmly at MacCready. "Turns out I'm a 'Bi-Sexual'. Who knew?"

'Who knew, you ask... I don't know, me, mom, almost every mutual friend? Really, Vinnie?', Vaughn asked, shaking his head. 'Better late than never, I guess.'

Vin's eyebrows took off. He got those forehead wrinkles just like his Pop, the ones the old man said he used to screw his hat on with. "You're shittin' me? Everyone? Oh damn, unconscious flirting, huh." Mac let out a good-natured laugh, then coughed  
*Preston!*. Vin nodded in surrender. "Well, I've only got one handsome guy firmly in my sights, now.

"Hey… just in case this.." he waved at the weirdness of the situation, "goes away, see if you can take a token with you. Remember when I stole Pop's stogie?" He turned to Mac to explain. "I was seven. Vonnie was only four. Pop never smoked around us but he'd chew on one sometimes so we thought it was like a liquorice stick or somethin'. We both tried to eat it!"

Vin handed his cigar stub to Vaughn. "It ain't much but it's somethin'."

Vaughn took the stub and looked at it. He smiled at the memory and put it into a inner pocket of his jacket.

'I still have your tags, you know', Vaughn said, as he got the tags out, with Vin's full name and other information on it. 'Got them with your box, alongside a photo I have framed in our living room. I want to give you something too.' 

Vaughn reached his hand over to untie his ronin bun, letting his long hair flow onto his shoulders, and handed Vin the hairband. 

'I know is not much, but it's my favorite hairband. I've had it ever since the pre-war time. I still have some more, so it's not like my hair will get in my way'. 

Vin took it and put it over his left hand, snug next to the PIP-boy on his wrist. He felt emotional again and redirected that into a phrase he used to tease his cousin with. "Thanks, Princess Goldilocks," he said with a half-smile.

Vaughn jokingly hit Vin on his shoulder, laughing. 

'Now try to live your life fully, and make good choices. Just so you know, I'm proud of you and I love you. When we see each other again, it will be in the afterlife. So you'd better have a lot to say!' Vaughn said with a sad smile.

'Surely your Brigadier-General keeps you occupied enough, so I don't need to say anything', Hancock said with a chuckle.

'It's highly probable that your old synth considers you a good man if he named you his partner. Just take care', Nick added, nodding his head.

Hera poked her head out more from the coat and clucked in a particular tone.

'That's her way of saying she likes you.', Vaughn said.

"Thanks Hancock, Valentine. Keep this guy safe for me, make sure he relaxes? And um, thanks Hera."

Mac awkwardly shook hands withe Vaughn. "Um… it was good to meet you, Mr. ..er…General Zander. You and Vin were, I mean are, real close, huh? You were lucky to have each other, growing up. I…uh… I hope Duncan made it in your world. Don't know what we would have done without our knight in shining power armor, here."

* * *

Vaughn woke up with a headache, on the ground. He heard clucking and felt a pecking on his head, and finally opened his eyes. He found himself outside of Red Rocket, just a bit away from the statue at the entrance of Sanctuary.

'Was that a dream?', Vaughn murmured to himself. 

Hera persisted with her clucking, and Vaughn looked at her. She didn't seem nervous, just a bit annoyed. Maybe he had a concussion. Yet... it felt too real.

'You don't remember anything, do you, girl?', he asked Hera. knowing that she couldn't talk. All Hera answered with was a tilt of her head, in confusion. 

Vaughn lifted himself slowly from the ground, wiping any dirt from his jacket, and picked up Hera and put her on his shoulder. He then took the bridge to Sanctuary. 

He could not stop thinking about all of what had happened. Had he really met Vin again? Had the dimensions broken for a bit and they really met? Did that thistle cause some kind of hallucination? He couldn't find any explanation.

Passing by the sniper tower, just by the entrance of Sanctuary, he looked up to see who was on shift. It was Robert, who waved at him. He waved back in response with a smile. 

He continued his way to his house, passing by his mom's house, where she was taking care of the flowers with Codsworth. 

He thought that he couldn't tell anyone anything about what had happened. Probably that not even his loves could understand it. He ran his hand over his chest, to touch the tags, but then he felt something else in an inner pocket. He stopped to look and there it was. The cigar stub. So it _was_ real!

'Well, well, look who's back'. Hancock's raspy voice was heard nearby, and Vaughn hid the stub in the pocket then turned to see him coming out of the bar. Hancock got on his tip toes and gave him a short peck on the lips. 'You've been a while. Did the traders bring anything good?'

'Yea, I think we can check it later. You were here the entire time?' Vaughn asked, wanting to know if Hancock had any memory of that event.

'Where else I would be?'

'And Nick?'

'In the house with Oliver. It's lecture time, like you scheduled it.'

'Right.'

'You ok, love? You seem lost in your thoughts. And why do you have your hair free?" Hancock's worried tone got Vaughn's attention.

'Oh. I guess Hera picked it again. You have any hairbands?', he asked, without saying where the actual hairband was.

'Always', Hancock responded, getting a hairband from his wrist. He and Nick made a habit to have hairbands on their wrists for Vaughn. He caught Vaughn's hair up in the usual ronin bun and tied it up. 'Try to not pick on this', he said to Hera, to which she clucked in annoyance. He then looked up at Vaughn. 'You seem tired, sunshine. You need a break?'

'Yea, I'm just tired. Let us go home.', he said, putting his arm around Hancock, the other one responding by wrapping his arm around Vaughn's waist.

Vaughn had not revealed to anyone where exactly he found the cigar stub he put next to the framed photo of him and Vin. Some things cannot be explained by logic, and this time, he accepted it. Yet his heart felt lighter.

* * *

Vincent felt the rough, powdery gravel underneath his cheek. His other cheek and temple were being methodically licked clean. 

"Mphhh…Dogmeat, enough now boy." Vin rolled onto his side and sat up, wiping dust and drool away with a sleeve. 

"Mac? MAC?" he bellowed, suddenly panicking. Footsteps approached. 

"No, it's me, brother. MacCready is up in his nest in Sanctuary. Is everything alright?" the ex-Paladin asked as he lent Vin a hand up. 

"I..uh..blacked out."  
Dogmeat softly whuffed. "Yeah, after you tripped me up, buddy. What was that?" Dogmeat whined and blinked at him.

Dan put one steadying hand on Vin's shoulder and held up his index finger. "Head still, follow my finger," commanded the ex-soldier.

"I'm fine, Dan, just prob'ly need to eat. Better get home."

"Didn't you need the hydraulic tubing?" 

"Oh, yeah. It's why I came…"

"Here's what's going to happen, Vincent. I'll carry the tubing reel and see you to the clinic. I need to take something to Sturges. I don't believe you are concussed but.."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get checked out."

Dan disappeared momentarily and reappeared, carrying the tubing and launching a box of snack cakes Vin's way. He caught it in his left hand and noticed a navy blue line on his wrist. 

Vaughn's hairband.

He felt it, pulled at it slightly, feeling its stretch. It was real. Vaughn was real. Vin felt tears well up.

"Come on, brother. Let's get you home."

Vin felt the simple elasticated band on his wrist and whispered, under his breath, "I _was_ home.

The End


	8. Festival (Caring When Sick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Commonwealth Day! Everybody is dressing up but the only thing Vin is wearing is a look of self-pity.

Tomorrow would be Commonwealth Day again, marking the creation of the Minutemen of Steel and celebrating the settlements. Each individual or group of settlements held its own extended-family party and Sanctuary Hills was always the largest.

Travis 'Lonely' Miles would travel up from Diamond City with Piper and Nick, Preston would attend with Lu Abernathy and her parents. Dan and Rhys would join them from their home at Red Rocket, Curie and Codsworth were of course in attendance. Hancock preferred to party harder in Goodneighbor.

It was usual to put on fancy dress and the boys had outdone themselves this year. Duncan was going as the Minuteman Statue, complete with a little base to stand on at the bridge so that he could surprise people and Shaun was dressed as his Dad, Vincent 'Nate' Hudson, complete with original Vault suit.

It was just as well, thought MacCready, because the real one wasn't going anywhere.

"Hhmmm….chuh. 'Choo!" Vin sniffed and reached for a rag handkerchief. He was rummaging around in a drawer. "Mac? MAC! I can't find my Manta Man costume, you seen it?"

"I lent it out to Dan…"

"Whad the hell?"

"Because you're not going, remember? You had a bit of a fever last night, Vin an' your.."

"Whu..chUUUHHH"

"…sneezing everywhere," Mac said with a grimace, wiping his cheek. "C'mon, stop exploding all over me and get back to bed."

"But I need to.."

"Get back in bed. That's right."

Vin gave his husband the big old puppy eyes but they were met with the 'I'm not falling for it' stony stare, so he pouted, shuffled back under the covers and grouchily croaked, "I was supposed to be gi…*ckkhuuh*..givin' a speech."

Mac's expression softened. "Preston has it covered. Curie is stopping by later to check on you. The boys are fine and you have Nurse MacCready to reckon with if you leave this house."

Vin grumbled. He hated being ill and not being occupied. It didn't happen often, he was pretty robust healthwise but a recent strain of 'Farmer's 'flu' had hit him worse than most the last time he had caught it. The settlers had had a lifetime to build up their immunities; it really was a wonder that Vin hadn't got more sick in his first year in the Wasteland.

"How are you feeling, Huggybear?" Mac asked softly.

"Like I just got hit with _fuckshot_ from a _shitgun!_ Vin yelled, croakily. "And don't even think I'm payin' a single fuckin' cap into the damn swearjar today!"

Mac scowled at him but had to turn to hide his grin. It wouldn't matter anyway, he thought, as long as the boys didn't hear. Let Vin blow off some steam.

Mac busied himself filling a tray with a water jug, glass, rags and snacks. He pulled out the warmest blanket, the one Piper had made them as a wedding gift and went in search of Vin's sketchpad. Vin wasn't happy unless he was doing or creating something, which made him about the least patient patient Mac had ever known.

"No, doctors make the worst patients. I should know, my cousin was one," he had argued. 

'Well in that case, doctors' cousins make the second worse patients. Now stay put!" Mac had countered. 

MacCready didn't mind missing the festival too much, after all it meant that he'd escaped wearing that terrible Mr. Pebbles costume. 

Vin wasn't looking so good. Mac felt his love's forehead and rushed to get a cold, damp cloth. He sat, feet up on the bed beside him. "Here, drink some water, let's keep this fever in check, cowboy." Mac tenderly brushed an auburn lock out of Vin's eye. "Rest up, handsome. You've done enough for the Commonwealth a million times over, you can take a few days off."

Vin shuffled down the bed, closed his eyes and lay a large arm over MacCready's legs in a tired, defeated hug.

"Thanks, hero."


	9. Loadout & Living Space (A Hug)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heart of Piper and Nat's home is not a hearth, but a printer. A very old and increasingly cratchety printer. The old girl finally has enough.

"No no nonoNo NOOO! Stupid old thing!" Piper's voice almost harmonised with the clang of broken metal from the old printing press. She kicked it then yelled from the pain of stubbing her toe.

"I told you, like, _years_ ago that it needed fixing, Sis," Nat said. 

"What'm I gonna do now, hey kiddo? The paper's due out in three days and it's the big commemorative issue! I've only been working on this for a _year_. '2290, A New Decade Dawns', she said with mock awe, then groaned, 'Publick Occurances Ceases to Occur'… aawwwwuhh!"

"I'm gonna join the Minutemen of Steel when I turn sixteen."

"What? Oooohhh, stupid machine. The lever sheared right off. Duct tape isn't going to fix the old girl this time."

"I asked the General if I could."

"What are you nattering on about, Nat?"

"He's right here in town, y'know? He brought his sons to do school this week. They're making a school up in Sanctuary, did you hear?"

"Oh what am I going to do? I doubt there's a printing press on the Prydwen, the technology is probably way too old for them to be bothered."

"So ask him."

"What? Ask who?"

"The General! Mister Sentinel-General?"

"What, Blue? Ask him what?"

"Oooohhh Piper you are unbelievable. Ask him to _fix the printer_ , dumbass."

"Natalie Mary Katherine Wright! You do _not_ get to call me names."

"Sorry Piper. Will you do it, though?"

"I…I don't wanna bother him Nat. He's a busy man."

Piper turned away to unload the precious paper from the broken machine and also so that her sister couldn't see her crying. What she didn't see was that Vin was waving and walking their way.

"He can't be that busy. Shall I ask him for you?"

Sentinel-General Vin Hudson suddenly said "Ask me what?" right behind Piper. She spun around in surprise, her eyes wide for a moment. 

"Mr. Zwicky sent me to ask if he could have a ream of… what's wrong, Pipes?"

Piper's dam finally burst. "Oh Blue, it _broke!_

Vin looked over Piper's head at Nat who pointed at the printer. He wrapped his large arms around his sobbing friend. "Hey, firecracker, don't go all soggy on me now. You know what they say about me?"

Piper sniffed and looked up at Vin's warm, slightly cocky smile. "I can fix anything!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that Piper would have given her sister middle names, after Mary Katharine Goddard who was an early American publisher, and the postmistress of the Baltimore Post Office from 1775 to 1789. She was the second printer to print the Declaration of Independence. {Wikipedia}


	10. Silence (Noir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dangerous piece of experimental tech, a mission to the Glowing Sea and a potentially life-altering accident face R.J. MacCready and Vincent 'Nate' Hudson in this story set well post-game, sometime after 2294.

The last things he heard were the increasingly high-pitched whining noise, Mac shouting his name from across the sunken warehouse and the _thoompf_ , before he blacked out.

Two days earlier, Haylen had travelled all the way to Sanctuary to disturb Vin's peace and quiet. It was supposed to be his rostered time off. She had explained that a Brotherhood recon team had caught a Gunners division that were up to something unusual. Someone had hired them to find a piece of forgotten experimental tech, somewhere in the Glowing Sea. They'd already checked with Virgil (who knew nothing) but Quinlan had dug up an obscure reference - with co-ordinates - and Maxson wanted his best on the case.

'His best' would rather keep his feet up on the case of whiskey but MacCready pointed out that they could probably wangle another week's peace and quiet if they took a day or two to deal with this. The hazard pay for missions in the green and balmy southwest was rather handsome, too.

With the help of a map extension upload to his PIP-boy, Vin and Mac, Sentinel-General and Paladin-Major respectively, arrived at the site. They almost missed it entirely as a huge fissure had carried the whole building down several hundred feet. It seemed mostly intact, sat on a descended plateau. Getting down there involved reels of steel cable (a new addition to the suits since Vincent's recent visits to Appalachia) and their trusty jetpacks.  
Oh, you could survive quite a fall in power armour but the jetpack only got you up so far. Better to have some sure way of ascending.

The two men clicked their helmet lights on. It was near midday above but the thick radioactive mist hung heavy, muffling their footsteps and severely reducing their vision. Down here it was so thick you could pour it but the highbeams cut through it just enough.

So did the glow. 

At first, it was gentle, like a clear patch in the pea soup. Then it outlined a doorway…then it bobbed and weaved toward them haphazardly. The two men had been fooled by the sense of scale, the fog muffling light just as much as it did sound. The doorway must actually have been larger than a barn door, the Bloated Glowing One was that tall and then some…

A Behemoth. A bloated, glowing, Behemoth.

Vin charged his gauss rifle to its maximum capacity whilst Mac took out the thing's one visible eye. The monstrosity lumbered around, flailing. Vin moved toward the ledge, shouting, aiming for its arms, disabling it so it would have to be close enough to kick out or fall forwards to do any damage. Except that Vin goaded it to the ledge and Mac's headshot, though not powerful enough to pierce the thing's rock-like skull, made it tip backwards just enough to force it to step off the plateau's ledge, down into the darkly gleaming purplish depths. It fell, but the air was so thick that no sound clambered up to reach the helmet microphones at their ears.

The warehouse was largely unimpressive yet disturbingly defenseless. One security door that Vincent hacked with ease led through a concrete corridor to a simple room. Mac stayed at the far end of the corridor, keeping his hawk eyes open for unwelcome guests, whilst Vin approached the free standing unit at the centre of the bare room. 

It looked like a miniature version of the lift in the Institute, he realised with a chill. The tech was a near hourglass shaped contraption that looked similar to two welded together eyebots that had taken valve fashion tips from DiMA. 

It was when Vin reached down, retracted the clear tubular cover and pulled the knifeswitch to release the tech that he heard those last sounds: the high-pitched whine, his husband shouting "VIN!" and …the air being sucked out of his ears, his nose, his mouth before being punched back forcefully, even through the layers of fully upgraded T-60 power armour.

He knew that sound, that feeling. He'd experienced similar at Anchorage when the faulty missile launcher had exploded next to his naked right ear, stealing away most of his hearing in that side for good. After the explosion, it took two weeks for any hearing in either side to return at all. The prognosis had been so uncertain that he'd been taught a few basic signs, ones that he had now spread among the Minutemen of Steel for stealth ops. He'd taught the alphabet to Duncan for silly games and secret conversations under the table, out of sight of his Dad. Mac never had picked it up very well.

Vin knew this pain that awaited him the other side of unconsciousness. He'd known a lesser version, anyway. This one jammed railspikes in his ears and set supersledges thumping at his temples. He felt himself crying, couldn't see for the tears of pain, panicked and scrabbled to remove the helmet. He couldn't hear any geiger-rhythm so he exited the armour only to wipe at his eyes and find his fingers stained red. He breathed thick, metallic green air and panicked more, tried to get back into the power armour and felt nausea and dizziness sending him back to the black. _Stupid move, Vinnie._

* * *  
MacCready saw the clear plastic tube sink down. Then, just as he saw Vin pull on a lever, three thick, clear plastic doors hesitantly shuttered across the concrete passageway between them, almost simultaneously. They did not close entirely, as they should have. Mac heard the distant whine, saw the crazy metal peanut light up and felt the pull and push on his suit as the air was sucked and then blown through the gaps, buckling the clear doors. He'd barely heard himself shout Vin's name but his thumb was on his distress pulsar beacon faster than a molerat on a shinbone.

A crackling voice came through his speaker. Recon team Heracles were half an hour away. Mac just screamed at them to put their jetpacks on. He noticed the rads were way above safe levels _So what in the name of Grognak is he taking off his…_ "NO, Vin, NO! Get the FUCK BACK IN! What the hell d'you think your DOING?" MacCready saw the blood running from Vincent's eyes and ears, saw him collapse, suddenly realised that his own hands were pounding on the plastic doors that seemed as strong as steel. They barely moved against his jetpack aided shoulder ram. 

"Think, _Robert_ , think... Vin's dying in there… _shut up and THINK!_ … They slid out. They'll slide back."

He was right. With much less effort, the doors withdrew, enough for him to pass. He lifted the limp body of his loved one, forcing it clumsily into the open Power Armour. Vin would just have to forgive him the bumps and bruises when he woke up. **If** he woke up. He twisted the fusion core into manual override position and hit the emergency close, jamming the helmet on as quickly as he could.

He listened to the in-suit mic. Breathing, he could hear ragged breathing - just. He'd never used the tow function but linked his suit to Vin's suit's copycat motor system so that he could walk them both out of there, even with the Sentinel-General likely unconscious. Not that Mac noticed it but the Detonating Explosive Aural Frequensor Neutralising Device was now nothing but a pile of fizzling scrap.

* * *  
Team Heracles had called in the Vertibird. Mac and Vin were brought straight to the Prydwen where Ingram and Cade got Sentinel Hudson out of the tin can. He was swiftly treated for dangerous levels of radiation exposure and thanks to an advanced biometric scanner that Vin had once lifted from the Institute, saved from dangerous bleeding on the brain.

He was moved to the main clinic at Sanctuary under the care of the best doctors in the Commonwealth. Despite the formerly described injuries sounding bad they were dealt with relatively easily. Stimpaks and Radaway don't heal everything, though, even industrial strength ones.

He slept for three days. Finally, his body had repaired enough of itself to allow his eyes to open. The first thing he saw was MacCready, crying.

"Hey, lover…" the words had left his lips and had obviously reached Mac's ears but Vin couldn't hear himself at all. He could feel that he was making sound but…

The shaking started up again. His right limbs tremored, grasped by old trauma that held on like a vampire tick. He'd been here before, to this place, this…

Silence.

Mac was smiling now but hadn't stopped crying, he was holding Vin's hand, leaning gently against his leg, stroking his face - all the things that usually sent that vile past-tick packing but not this time. 

Vin shouted, angrily, fearfully. Nothing. Then he himself fell silent, closing his eyes, tumbling inside himself, retreating into the solitude of self. He felt MacCready's strong arms around his shoulders, felt the whisper of his words on his bare neck and wished he knew what his husband had just said.

MacCready pulled away, wiping at his scowling face with a tattered flannel sleeve. He grabbed a clipboard and pen from the bedside table and scrawled, 

"IF I HADN'T OF PERSUADED US TO TAKE THE JOB, YOU WOULDN'T HAVE GOTTEN HURT. ITS MY FAULT. I'M SO SORRY VIN."

Vin read it, tore the paper off and screwed it up, shaking his head even though it was painful to do so. He grabbed Mac in a bearhug and could only croak, "Not your fault love, not your fault."

Cade and Curie put their heads together. They had told MacCready that firstly, he had been lucky to be outside the device's range and avoided the barotrauma that had affected Vincent. Cade said that if either of them had not been wearing power armour when that thing went off, they would have resembled food paste. 

Curie designed a tiny device that would aid the healing of Vin's already scarred, burst eardrum and support it. She drew diagrams for her patient, along with her written explanations. It was only Mac's worried expression that drew a nod of assent from him.

It took three more days for Mac to coax Vin out of his fugue state, after the small operation. He wouldn't let the boys see their Pop like that. After a week, he was dismissed from the clinic to rest at home. Not that Vincent Hudson had ever been good at resting without a glass of whiskey, a cigar and the radio blasting out rock 'n' roll, two of which were denied him. He didn't even feel like painting, so he moped around the house trailing cigar smoke or busied himself tending the crops, cooking or looking for anything in the house that could be fixed up with what he had to hand. 

Vin's lip-reading was terrible. The results were sometimes hilarious but mostly made MacCready and Shaun feel bad for him. Duncan delightedly practiced his signing, though Vin could only handle that for short periods before getting angry with the whole situation, bellowing "Enough!" and storming out. Shaun did what he could to help both his parents, finding things for Vin to fix or renovate and keeping Duncan out of his hair and giving his Pa MacCready a shoulder to lean on.

Mac felt lost. He hesitantly made the sign for 'I love you', bringing only the briefest smile to Vin's face. Seeing the man he loved so cut off from everything made his heart ache. He tried to show Vin that he loved him but the man was in no mood for romance… until five, long weeks later. 

Vin awoke late. He found himself in bed, alone. The first thing he heard was Mac, singing along to one of their favourite songs, "Dear Hearts and Gentle People". He tried saying Mac's name. It was quiet, muffled, with a background hiss that hadn't been there before but he heard it!

Vin jumped off the bed and went round to their little kitchen, where Mac was making breakfast.

"Mornin' crooner," he said with a grin.

"Ywh aah nah?"

"Speak up, I'm a bit deaf, lover."

Mac turned off the radio, spun to face him directly and raised his voice a little and asked, "You _heard_ that?"

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

Vin raised his voice. "I said 'I'm sorry'," he lowered his volume again, "for being a grumpy bastard."

Mac grinned and threw himself into Vin's arms, kissing him deeply with relief. Duncan emerged from his room and yelled "GROSS!"

His Pop turned around and attacked him with a tickle to the ribs. "Actually heard that too, MacDunc!"

Vin's hearing eventually returned, almost fully (at least in his one good ear) but the tinnitus never left him alone. He started a signing class at Mr. Zwicky's school for anyone who needed it and reminded Mac every day how wonderful it was to hear his voice. He also said that even had he stayed trapped in silence he would have had to stop being a gruff, grumpy bastard because he loved MacCready too much to put him through that any longer. Goodness knows he'd almost lost Nora the first time he went deaf.

Now, though, with the return of most of the hearing that he had left, that high-pitched tinnitus whine came to stay. He'd never truly know silence again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I myself, though not deaf, have tinnitus and Audio Processing Disorder - an intermittent disability of the brain to process sound correctly. If I'm very tired and / or not looking at the speaker, words are just so much gobbledigook. Background sound interferes, too.
> 
> I have been learning very basic British Sign Language for years, on and off and took my sprog to baby signing classes years ago (it helps to develop language early on and now 11, is doing extremely well at English!)
> 
> My OC reasoning to make Vin deaf was partly informed on my gameplay. I'm not co-ordinated well enough to be good at 'hip-fire' - my autistic brain can be a slow processor sometimes. V.A.T.S. helps Vin to pick out targets that he'd normally miss hear coming from his right side, though Mac's usually got him covered there.


	11. Craft (Older/Younger)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family gathering, memories resurface.

Shaun had been feeling very nervous about today and was rehearsing the greeting that Kasumi had taught him in his head. He walked up the coastal path with his Dad, Vin, on one side and his Pa, Mac, on the other. MacCready was chattering nervously himself, griping about the moisture in the air, the sea breeze and wondering why people liked to live somewhere so very _wet_ and exposed. 

"I know, I know Pa, you'd much rather live in a nice dry cave eating fungus," Shaun teased. Vin looked over at his seventeen year old son, truly one of a kind. He now had an adult body, the last synthetic body that would ever be made. The technology that had produced it, not in the Institute but in Acadia, had been destroyed. That had been the price to keep the Brotherhood out of the final synth refuge in Far Harbor.

He was a handsome boy. They may have been synthetic genetics but the original patterns were from Vincent and Nora, originally combined so long ago in that green and pleasant park. He saw her in Shaun's eyes, just as he saw echoes of other family members from time to time.

Right now, it was time to meet potentially new family members. Shaun Hudson-MacCready and Kasumi Nakano had been dating secretly for a while. Vincent had decided that they had better make it official and face the girl's parents, so he'd got in touch and been invited to dinner.

Shaun knocked on the door, Vin stood by his side. Kenji and Rei Nakano opened it together, smiling broadly. "Welcome! Come in, come in. Good to see you Sentinel-General, sir."

Shaun cleared his throat, bowed slightly and said  
"こんいちわ、おじゃまします。"   
MacCready looked slightly panicked at the unfamiliar words, so Vin squeezed his arm.

Rei beamed at him, welcomed them inside, asked them to please wipe their feet, bemoaning the fact that some old family traditions such as removing shoes just weren't practical these days.

Vincent shook Kenji's hand. "Just Vincent is fine, Kenji san. I'd like to introduce my husband Mac (they shook hands) and our eldest, Shaun." The young man produced a small package containing sweet cakes that he'd made himself. Rei was delighted by this and ushered him politely to the sofa, then turned and yelled "Kasumi chan! どこいますか！"

They heard feet thumping down the stairs and Vin hardly recognised the girl in the pretty blue floral dress. He was so used to seeing her around Boston Airport base wearing green overalls and smudges of grease. Although, he could see a little smear of oil on her cheek even now.

The family meal was wonderful. Vin hadn't felt so relaxed outside of their usual home bases for a while. Rei seemed very taken with Shaun and Kenji soon put Mac at ease, who was also relieved to find that the meal wasn't seafood but boiled razorgrain rice, vegetables and various meats. Vin relished the unusual recipes and cooking methods and was soon getting tips. 

They were just clearing away when there came another knock at the door. 

"Expecting anyone else, Kenji?"

"No. I wasn't." 

Vin picked up his shotgun from near the door, Mac did the same with his rifle. "Who is it?" shouted Vin through the door.

"Trader! Just a trader, sir!" 

Vin opened the door cautiously. Mac was already upstairs, scanning the area around from the upstairs windows. 

The man wore a very old field scribe's uniform, though heavily patched and with additional bags and pockets, if that were possible. He wore a yellow slicker hat with goggles over the top and a strange pair of multiple-lensed glasses on his face. There was no brahmin, as was to be expected with most traders but instead a very battered looking two-eyed Mr. Handy, the middle third eye having been replaced by a green and brass reading lamp. It was hooked up to a small golf cart that looked to have been converted to some kind of covered bookshelf. Vin scrutinised the odd, middle-aged man. "I don't recognise you. What are you trading?"

"Oh, this and that, a little of everything. What I'm most interested in is what _you_ might have.. oh not shooting or making or eating things but…ah, where are my manners? Sorry. Let me introduce myself. I am The Archivist. Y..you can call me Archie." He gestured over his shoulder. "This is Wordsworth. We collect photographs, family records, personal papers from the time before the, uh….." he gestured a mushroom cloud at them and exhaled a sound-effect.

"I'm sorry, I have very little left from pre-war, my albums were all destroyed," Vin said. 

Archie looked at him askew. "You…are you saying that you… oh! The Vault-Dweller himself? Mister Sentinel-General, it's an honour!"

Kenji stepped forward. "Perhaps we can offer you some tea and trade a little. Please understand, though, we are in the middle of a personal visit."

"Oh! Tea! Yes, of course, I don't want to get in the way but if you have any old photographs, documents…I will pay well for them!" Rei went to rummage in an old trunk and retrieved some that had nothing to do with their family but had washed up in some old luggage once.

"Excellent! Thankyou! Oh…let me see... what parts were you originally from, Mr. Sentinel sir? Your face is very familiar."

Vin hesitated to answer but decided there was no harm in answering. "Trinity Plaza café apartments. Went to college at D.B. Technical." Mac had crept back downstairs and heard this for the first time. "What, the crazy bear-head place?"   
"Yep. I had to wear that stupid thing once, back when it wasn't disgusting. Tell ya about it later."

The Archivist was rummaging through drawers in his portable library. "Ah! I knew it! Yes yes."

He withdrew an old engineering textbook with D.B. stamped on the spine and turned it reverently toward Vin, slowly cracking it open where something lay between the pages. Vin drew a startled breath. There, faded and brown, sat an old double-portrait photograph. The two familiar faces peered up at him. A man with auburn hair and a warm smile and a boy, clearly his son.

"How much?" Vin asked without hesitation.

"What? Oh, no, no. Your face is payment enough, sir. That is you, isn't it?" he enquired, pointing to the boy, a twinkle in his old eyes.

Mac peered over Vin's right shoulder and spoke up so that he would hear. "That your Pop? You're the spit of him, Vin!" He was overcome and lost for words but his smile told Mac everything.

"Oh, look what a lovely cheeky boy you were," cooed Rei. 

"Hey, Shaun, look at this!" called Mac… but Shaun and Kasumi were preoccupied…with each others' faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be obscure but I took the 'Craft' as reference to what had been made, which is Shaun's adult body, plus the boat (the craft ar the Nakano's dock).   
> As for the Old/Young illustration prompt... well, I've been playing with Artbreeder alot lately as you will see if you visit my Tumblr!


	12. Grudge (Rainy Day)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2295  
> Seven years after the Institute was defeated, the Commonwealth is healing under the guidance of the Minutemen of Steel and the reformed Brotherhood.  
> Sentinel-General Vincent Nathaniel Hudson-MacCready still suffers from pre-war Post Combat Stress Syndrome, which is compounded by the fact that he had to go through the Railroad to defeat the Institute. Just don't ever say 'bullseye' near him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is canon with "Vincent, Redefined" and takes place after the events of "I'll Carry You" and "MacCready, Redefined".

DERAILED

It was a nowhere kind of place. One of those lost, lonely houses along a broken road, well away from the well-trodden provisioner routes, surrounded by scrubland and ancient junk and the occassional unburied body either skeletal or rad-wracked.

The scavenger was hunched over the chitinous bowl-like remains of a particularly large rad-roach, picking out the roasted flesh with fingerless gloved hands and eating it distractedly, flecks dropping into the wiry, slightly curly grey beard that hid the weathered, wrinkled neck behind it. 

Pulling out the last large, flakey morsel, he wrapped it in a plastic bag that was now devoid of its Sugarbomb innards and its cardboard armour. He swiped the grimy grey knit cap off his head and wiped a greasy hand over the bald scalp beneath. 

The radio in the corner sputtered to life. It did that sometimes, when it felt like it. He listened sometimes. When he felt like it.

The low, four and a half-legged table in front of him felt the scrape of his switchblade in its crackling varnish as the music played 'Dear Hearts and Gentle People'. _scritch, scratch_.

The radio presenter came on, advertising "… _the Commonwealth Day market at Starlight City, to be officially opened by the Sentinel-General himself._ The Scavenger perked up his ears and scratched a few more letters.

The next song froze his blade in mid-gouge. Magnolia blared out statically from the little speaker, singing "Train, Train". The old man slammed down the knife on the tabletop, scooped a barbed cane from the floor and leaned heavily on it to stand. He straightened and, out of habit, prodded the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, then quickly forced his hand down. 

A bag was lifted from the floor, disturbing dust motes and rotten splinters that fell back down, landing as softly as the footsteps that padded away from the now inscribed table. 

* * *  
"Do I really have to wear a fu..uh..fitted suit?" moaned Vin. 

"YES, Blue. We talked about this. It sends a message, remember."

"I know what message it's sending me right now," smirked MacCready from his slump on the other sofa.

"Gross," Piper muttered.

"Hey, I heard that, Pipes!" Vin exclaimed. To Mac, he said, "So it still looks good on me, hey Bun?"

"Rockin' it, handsome."

"Eurgh, would you two lovebirds cut it out while I sort this…aghh. Why d'yask _me_ to do this?"

"I didn't, Piper. You came in, said my tie was all 'skew-whiff' and took over."

"As usual…" mumbled MacCready.

"UGHH! Well..well… I give up! Bet Mr. Snarky over there can't do any better."

Mac's ears perked up at the mention of the word 'bet'. "Oh yeah? Twenty caps says I can get the neck-snake to behave."

"Thirty says you can't," challenged Piper, eyebrows raised, chin jutted forward.

"Fine. Watch me tie the perfect knot and win your thirty caps, pen-pusher."

Piper just crossed her arms and restrained herself from a biting comeback as Duncan had just entered the room. Mac was undoing the mess that Piper had made and didn't look over when he said "Hey buddy, go get changed."

Vin raised his chin for Mac to have better access and his eyebrows when he looked at his stepson. "Wow, that was quick!"

Piper smiled at the twelve year old, standing there in a small green jacket and trousers. "Well look who cleans up nicely," she said. "Jessie get some new threads in, huh?" 

"Yep. Like it, Dad?" 

Mac glanced over and nodded. "Neato. Lemme just sort out Pop's tie, then I'll help with yours."

Mac finished, kissed his husband and held out his hand toward the reporter whilst still gazing at his auburn knight. Vin looked in the tarnished silver mirror. "Perfect. Pay up Piper." When she grumbled, Vin reminded her to stop using the 'b' word in conversation with Mac.

The companions trooped out to go and find their places on the rooftop stage by the square. Starlight City was packed. Vin had never seen so many people here before. Extra stalls had been set up, selling food, drink and even Minuteman themed souvenirs. Maxson had stomped on anyone's chances of selling Brotherhood memorabilia, even if they _had_ destroyed the Institute. No, this day was, as Hancock loved to say, "Of the people, for the people" and since the Minutemen were made up of the general populace, not to mention being the native militia in these parts, Vin and his council felt that a few little pats on the back would be good for morale.

There was even an old guy in the marketplace whittling ' ..At A Minute's Notice" on pencils. Vin had bought one each for Duncan and Shaun and been too distracted to notice exactly how the old man looked up at him, watery blue eyes peering through wild, ginger-peppered grey eyebrows.

The day was a huge success. Vin managed to get a short speech out and then to get out of the suit into a T-shirt and his Atom Cats jacket by mid-afternoon. He and Mac sat drinking with Shaun, Valentine, Piper, Diesel Dan (formerly Danse), Rhys and Preston. The settlement-come-city had suffered no attacks that day and much fun was had. 

Mac sat back on their sofa, later, in their apartment above the games shop. He studied the nostalgic look on Vin's whiskey-blushed face. It had been a good fair. "I'm guessin' that reminded you of the old days?"

"Huh? Oh. No…," Vin grinned. "It was better."

* * *  
It was a routine patrol, just the two of them wandering the wasteland like in the old days. Vin had lost count of how many times he'd walked the Commonwealth. He'd planned a route that went through several 'dark spots', places on his bright green PIP-boy map that weren't criss-crossed with Brotherhood patrols and provisioner routes. 

There were always Raiders somewhere, of course, sometimes Supermutants, rarely Gunners though anymore. Even the wildlife had receded since the Institute imploded and the Minutemen of Steel had risen. So far though, this journey had been uneventful…until they found the house.

There was no roof as such, barely the remains of a second floor. A mismatched collection of planks and a tatty mildewed olive green canvas that might once have been a tent covered the hole in the ceiling.

Vin cast his detective's eye about the scene. There were signs of recent usage: pots and pans hastily shoved underneath an old sideboard, a reasonably clean yellow sleeping bag rolled up in a corner. An upturned, empty radroach shell...but it was MacCready who spotted the low wooden table on its side near the wall and flipped it over.

"What the heck's that s'posed to mean?" he muttered.

"Whad'you say?" 

" 'Does everbody assume collateral obliteration now?' Damn Raiders should cut back on the psycho," Mac chuckled.

"Say what?" 

"Raiders and psycho, man."

"No, the other thing." Vin moved over to look down at the scratched surface. His auburn brows descended in concentration, muscles in his jaw working away as he read the odd phrase until he suddenly paled.

"Dickin' fragbomb."

"Well, that's a new one…" grumbled Mac, then he realised that Vin was about to have one of his Post Combat Stress Syndrome episodes. His right arm and leg were shaking, he'd gone very pale and his breath was coming in ragged, irregular gasps.

"Heh..hey! Vin! I got you, sit down here." Mac quickly cleared rubble off the nearby staircase. His blue eyes were full of concern but alert, nonetheless, his voice gentle. When he was certain that Vin was not getting any worse, he risked asking, "What set off the shakes this time, bear?" 

Vin made an audible effort to steady his breathing until he could speak. "That phrase. Read… read the first letter of each..." he took a deep breath, "each word."

"D..E..A..C.. oh."

"It's fresh. Can't be more than a day or two old. Look, the shavings are still on the floor," Vincent pointed out. Valentine had been teaching him for years how to see with a detective's eye. He often said Vin would have made a good cop.

"He's dead, though. We saw the body. Besides, it's just a name. Two people can have the same name. Remember that guy who used to set up a bar in the craziest, middle o' nowhere places. He was a Mac. It doesn't mean…"

"But it could." Vin cut MacCready off. Carrying out Kells' orders to clear out the Railroad headquarters was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done. Admittedly, he'd joined with the sole purpose of using them to get to his son. He did enough jobs for them to gain their trust, learned how to make ballistic weave, cleared out plenty of raider hovels and supermutant strongholds.

It wasn't that Vincent had disagreed with Desdemona about rescuing synths, he just didn't understand why she wouldn't apply the same care to human beings. Deacon had admitted to him that he'd tried to talk her round, to no avail.

As it turned out, their method of operations was less innocent and more complicated than that. Rescuing H2-22 had been a very bad idea, though. Despite his wipe, the psychopathic synth had managed to wreak havoc during the now infamous 'Numan' incident …and take Mac's lower leg in the process. 

Ultimately, Vin's discomfort with the thought of rescuing a synth but removing and replacing their personality won over. He carried out his orders, mercilessly. He hoped that Glory had ended up in some kind of Synth valhalla. He'd respected her. The only other member he felt true regret over was Deacon. Vin had never really got to know him. He couldn't stand the guy's personality; he lied too much but that didn't mean that he hadn't respected his skills.

 _Hypocrite_ , Vincent reflected. _I lied by omission of the truth. I was already Brotherhood when I joined._

"Vin, VIN! Snap out of it. We've gotta move, find somewhere that's not here to bunk down for the night."

The Sentinel-General pulled himself together and stood up. "Alright, move out."

* * *  
Trudy pushed a plate of grilled radstag toward the old man, next to his Nuka Cola. "This isn't a diner, y'know greybeard. Ten caps."

A thin, grubby finger pointed vaguely toward the Diner sign outside. "That's double false advertising then. Guess that means you don't get a tip." 

Trudy grumbled something about going soft in her old age and set to cleaning up the stove. The elderly man ate half of the steak in a civilised fashion, with utensils, before picking up the other half in his hand, fingertips poking through the end of his glove and took it outside to sit on the log at the side of the road. He pulled a slim switchblade from his boot and started carving.

* * *  
Vin's boots crunched on the broken tarmac leading to Drumlin Diner. He still remembered bringing Nora here for a milkshake. These days, the only milk in the Commonwealth was the strange, thick, greenish sludge that brahmin calves glugged greedily. Ricky Gee, rest his soul had said that Appalachian Brahmin milk was creamy white and potable. Curie insisted that there must be some kind of bacterial anomaly and was working to purify the milk. Vin secretly hoped she'd succeed and soon. He really missed his dairy products.

"Come back down to Earth, spaceman!"

"Huh? Oh. I'm here."

"Yeeeaaahh.. I think somebody _else_ was here, earlier," said Mac, pointing his rifle barrel toward the log. 

Vin read the freshly carved words: 'Disappearing, Enigmatic, Alluring Charmer Or Nobody?'

"Somebody having a personal crisis?"

"Maybe," said Vin, taking MacCready's joke seriously. "Let's go talk to Trudy."

The trader told them that an old scavver came by a couple of days ago and traded stories for a Nuka Cola. Said he couldn't drink anymore, that he'd shot his liver. That Nuka Cola was the only thing that kept him awake. It sounded like Sheffield, the tramp from Diamond City that Vin had given a job to eight years ago. The only thing was, that old scruff had died last year.

* * *

Just outside Concord, they spotted a loaded brahmin and a figure dressed in an old Postman's uniform with a combat helmet on headed toward them. All settlement provisioners were Minutemen, complete with a dress code. They had to wear a Postman's uniform, hat or both to be easily identifiable.

This woman, Darryl, smiled at her General and Major as they approached. 

"Sirs, how ya doin'?"

"Darryl, yeah we're good thanks. You need anything?"

"To find a decent cobbler? No, I'm good. Oh, hey I uh…I bought this at this fair an' didn't really look until later. Thought you should see it."

The brahmin mooed and nudged one of its heads gently up against MacCready, who scratched its closer chin as he watched.

The provisioner handed Vin a commemorative pencil. "Look here: on one side it says ''…At a Minute's Notice' but on another, it says:  
Death Ended A Collaboration Of Nobodies." Weirdsville, huh?

"Yeah. Weirdsville," Vin muttered and pocketed the pencil, giving Darryl a few rounds of ammo in exchange.

Mac didn't hear a peep out of Vin until they were in sight of Sanctuary bridge. The guard at the post saw them, waved them hurriedly on and turned to shout something to the figure behind him, who came running at full pelt. The two men broke into a jog and Marcy Long crashed into Vin's chest. Her face was red and wet with tears, her tone urgent and frantic.

"Jun got hurt bad but he's still out there, oh, your boy's still out there! He's gone, I'm so sorry Vincent! MacCready I don't.. oh.."

Mac grabbed Marcy roughly by the shoulders. His tone was low, ominous, just loud enough to shock her into listening but not to carry too far. "Pull yourself together, Long." Mac spoke through gritted teeth. 'Where? When?"

Marcy sobbed. "My Jun…he's in the clinic, they were mirelurk hunting across the lake, went out three hours ago…" Marcy drew shuddering breaths, "he turned up by the purifiers just ten minutes ago, alone. He's been unconscious since…" 

MacCready shoved her away and ran as fast as his prosthetic leg allowed, around the corner to the clinic. Vin put an arm around Marcy's shoulder and they jogged after him. They heard Mac shouting a house away.

"Wake him UP Curie, dammit! We need to find our SON!" 

"Monsieur MacCready, 'e is 'eavily sedated for ze pain."

"We're losing TIME, here, Am. Wake. Him. Up."

Vin appeared in the doorway. "Consider that an order, Doctor," Vin added, his voice level but weighted with authority.

"Oui, very well but you 'ave ten minutes only. Comprendez-vous?"

"What caused his injuries?"

"Mostly Razorclaw but Monsieur Long 'as one clean bulletwound through 'is calf."

Vin nodded and moved forward, placing a hand on Mac's shoulder, firmly guiding him to sit. "Let me ask the questions, Mac."

Jun's eyes fluttered open and he started groaning in pain, despite the Med-X. Vin gently took his hand.  
"Jun, hey friend. Where did you two go?"

"Mirelurk nest, n…north bank. More violent than usual, faster…I got shot, fell over, sound riled up the 'lurks, more, one surprised me, couldn't see shooter…I...heard your boy fire three shots, saw a 'lurk go down. I told him to run..home. Like we always promise, 'things go south, go home'. B.. by the time I got free o' the razorclaw I..I couldn't see him. Is he back?"

"No, Jun." Mac said coldly. Vin added, "North bank, what, near the older raider hut?"

"Up that way….didn't get back? Oh noooo…not your boy…"

Mac was already up and out of the door, ringing the bell. Minutemen came running and he ordered a 'downed-man' sweep around both sides of the bank.

Vin nodded to Curie and rushed out. He took Mac's elbow and they ran, making a bee-line for the north bank then turned slightly to the right. One mirelurk razorclaw limped its way along the shoreline. Vin took it out with his silenced shotgun and signaled to Mac to sneak. 

MacCready's hearing was almost as keen as his eyesight and he caught a child's voice on the wind, as raindrops began to fall, tapping out an uneven rhythm on the brim of his hat. Rifle readied, he crept around to a higher vantage point, though still downhill of the cabin. Vin watched him put the scope to his eye and saw the change in his expression as he spotted their son, relief mixed with caution. Vin looked through his own scope. He could just see the top of the boy's head past the back of another figure. A man in a dirty, patched, tattered trench coat, wearing a grey knit cap. A grey, curly, wiry beard wagged. He couldn't see much more from this position, except for the flash of a handgun that waved as the figure gesticulated in his conversation.

The two belly-crawled up the slope as quietly as they could. They could hear the man speaking now, an unmistakeable voice from years ago. He was playing Blast Radius with the kid.

"A Bullseye!"

"Y..you rolled a one, mister. That's not so good. Anyway I think its called 'snake eye'.

"No Shaun, that's two die, two ones. I wasn't talking about my diceroll anyway." 

Vin heard a chair creak as the man turned.

"I was talking about your dad, here."

The watery, pale blue gaze that met Vincent's through a crack in the shack boards hit him like a cryogrenade.

"Come on up, _Bullseye_ , join in the game! Your boy's winning so far.

MacCready moved past Vin to confront the man directly. He looked at the boy, their son, _his_ son, Duncan. Not Shaun, who was practically an adult and safe on the Prydwen. That fact nudged Vin out of his momentary paralysis, enough to lower the barrel of Mac's rifle and get a verbal shot in first.

"You used to be better at gathering intel, **Deacon**. 

"What, not your son?" he asked, puzzled, pushing the woollen hat off his head to scratch his scalp. He barely looked like himself. The sunglasses were absent, the crows feet at the corners of those pale blue eyes were deep, made all the more obvious by the dark circles and red-rimmed eyelids. He was no longer entirely bald but a sad wispy remnant of ginger-speckled wavy hair clung to the base of his skull like a drowning man with one arm over the last piece of flotsam.

His wavy grey beard was flush to his jaw but stuck out of his chin like a neglected topiary, the lantern light in the shack catching the one or two flecks of ginger that remained.

Deacon looked old, honestly old, Vin realised. There was no disguise this time, no veneer of slick confidence. Without those cheaters in front of his eyes, he couldn't hide a thing.

"He _is_ our son, just not the one you thought you'd caught."

Vin's fingertips were still on the lowered barrel of Mac's rifle. He could feel his husband shaking with the effort of staying quiet.

"Duncan, move toward me slowly, son."

He wasn't bound by anything save fear of the strange old man and did as his Pop told him to. Deacon just watched, a puzzled look on his face.

"Well, you got my invitation at least but there wasn't a 'plus one'."

Vin reached out to take Dunc's hand and as he pulled him behind his back, let go and signed the letters B and U to Mac. 'Get Backup', the silent order said. "Take Duncan home, Mac. I need to have a private conversation." Mac's glance was loaded with concern but Vin's resolve-face countered it.

Deacon grinned. "Duncan. That's a half-decent name, boy. Good game, by the way." Looking at MacCready, he said, "It's alright, you can go, Gunnerboy."

Mac scowled at him but bit his tongue, scooping Duncan behind him and backed off slowly until they were out of sight.

Deacon made a show of lowering his weapon and opening his coat to be clear that he wasn't armed. Vin noticed the barbed walking cane nearby but the old Railroad operative didn't acknowledge it. Vin moved in a little closer and sat down slowly across from him.

The two men studied each other for a long moment until Vin broke the silence.

"I killed you."

"I wasn't dead, I _**lied**_. I _told_ you I did that."

Each man took a few careful breaths.

"No, you killed poor ol' Stan Wicks. Guy was a gonner anyway, his insides were rotting. I got him a facejob done, groomed him for a while, y'know. Guy coulda been a comedian. Did a pretty good caricature of me, I have to say. Even fooled Des. I was saving him for a special occassion. So, when I got wind our Bullseye might be off the mark, I installed him at H.Q. Just in time."

Vin remained silent.

"Okay, okay, permit me a little curiosity here. I've been wanting to ask you for years, why didn't you ever take up with me? I kept offering my wonderful company."

Vin answered, matter-of-factly, "I used to be a Staff-Sergeant. I've got a nose for good whiskey, half-decent cigars and bullshitters."

"Ooh, you see now, that's the kind of quality banter I missed out on. Bet you saved that all for Gunnerboy, huh?"

"Don't. Call. Him. That."

"Bingo. Hit a nerve. Like being Brotherhood is any different to being a Gunner…"

Vin jerked in his seat but restrained himself from reacting. Deacon was trying to get a rise out of him and he wouldn't comply.

"You know full well it is, Deacon. Lying… that was the Railroad's downfall. Compartmentalisation and omission of truth." Vin leaned forward ever so slightly as he spoke. Deacon's lips remained closed, a thin, exhausted line.

"I never understood why they saved synth bodies, tore out their occupants and put new tenents in their place. Whole personalities, people, gone! Wiped! And they said they were saving them. They were _killing_ them." Vin paused to study Deacon's reaction: one eyelid twitched traitorously. He continued.

"How did they choose which 'new personality' got to live, huh? Where did those… souls... even come from? It wasn't just the Institute kidnapping people, was it? The Railroad was doing it too and blaming the Institute. Or did Desdemona and Carrington keep you out of that particular loop? Amari certainly didn't know. She was shocked to see the evidence that Valentine and I dug up. Take a trip to the Prydwen with me and you can see for yourself."

Deacon had paled at this, yet something told Vin this wasn't entirely news to him.

"And tell me, why would Des never save human beings? She lost a kid, didn't she? Sam, wasn't it? Lost 'em to a human being." Vin remembered the little toy shrine in a corner of the catacombs and Desdemona's last words.

Deacon sat back, breathing deeply. "Nice detective work, Hudson. Yeah. She did. She lost almost all faith in human beings. I heard her say something once about Rebirthing, some ultimate plan the Institute had for putting themselves in synth bodies, only Des wanted to get there first. I didn't understand at the time but it all makes a horrible sense now. I suspected, y'know? Always knew she wasn't as altruistic as she made out. I was tryin' to work it from the inside but then you came stomping along with your string o' can chimes and derailed everything."

"I betrayed you."

"You're damn right you did. Betrayed yourself as well huh, _Bullseye_ , Deacon spat.

"And paid for it." Vin looked at his past acquaintance straight in the eye, hiding nothing. That wasn't his way. In Deacon's gaze, he saw defeat, fragility, used-up anger and surrender. "Enough with the games and codenames. Who are you, really?"

"It's stupid. I outgrew it."

"Tell me."

Deacon sighed, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in that oh so familiar way. "Johnny Deathclaw. That's what get when your mother's an ex-raider but still wants her sweet little man to instill fear in the hearts of his enemies whilst being a hep cat. What can I say?"

"I see why you dropped it. So what do you go by now?"

"I try to avoid labelling myself."

"Let me try asking that again. You can address me as Sentinel-General or just General Hudson. What shall I call you now?"

"Well, _General_ … yeah, I hear your full name is quite a mouthful. Let's see… Sentinel-General Vin.. not Vinnie? Vince? No. Vincent, Nate (short for Nathaniel), Hudson-MacCready. Or is that surname the other way round? Whew! I don't envy you signing things off.

Me? I think I'll stick with Deacon. It's like a stain I can't get out, anyway."

"Alright, Deacon. What is it you want?"

"Well, at first it was vengeance, of course, served cold… I was going to attack you with a Cryolator! Too soon? Still? Ah.. My bad. Anyway then you really threw me. Apparently, Buckethead-you didn't shoot any Lanterns on your way through Bunker Hill. I heard that from one of the synths you let go. They found the Courser body there too. I figured maybe you were just new to the Brotherhood or maybe you were going to joyride the Prydwen an' let it burn but nope." 

Deacon reached for the walking cane, causing Vin to raise his shotgun. Deacon raised his left hand in surrender. "Just need to stand up, my old bones are complaining. Need a prop these days, " he explained. Vin nodded and rose too, lowering his gun when he could see that Deacon was genuinely leaning heavily on it. He lived with a one-legged man and knew that stance well.

"So what is you want from me now, Deacon? Why go to the trouble of kidnapping our son and attacking our friend?"

"Oh…ohhhh…thaaat wasn't my best plan ever. Feeding psycho to mirelurks, one star on the recommended pet food guide. Sorry I shot your friend, I was just trying to get Mr. Snippy away from the kid. He's a good shot, by the way. Figures, seein' who his dads are. Dads…doesn't that get confusing? How d'you know which dad the kid's yelling for?"

Vin quirked an eyebrow. "Focus, Deacon. What do you want from me?"

"I want you to help me solve a puzzle. _You_ , you're the puzzle. So you let those… what d'you call 'em now, Genthrees? Sounds kinda like 'gentry', the gentry of the Commonwealth. That makes them sound all upper class, now, doesn't it?"

" Synth's a dirty word these days. Gen three was better received. Go on."

"Oh yeah. Right. So I went deep undercover. By which I mean just letting my hair grow. Sunglasses broke and I didn't feel like getting another pair. Hiding in plain sight, that was the plan."

"Being yourself, for a change?"

Deacon shrank into himself a little. "I don't think I know how to do that anymore. I am… whoever people take me for, I guess," he shrugged. "Who am I to you, General?"

"I won't lie," Vin warned.

"I don't think _you_ know _how_ , anymore. Hit me."

Vin drew a deep breath. "You're a worn out, crazy old man who's had his idealistic rug pulled out from under his feet. Things aren't what you thought they were but you suspected something was off. Now, well, you're officially dead and you don't belong anywhere and have nothing to fight for," he drew more breath to continue, "…and those who might have been able to give you a purpose, can't. Because you taught them that they could never trust you. To put it bluntly, Johnny D., you're fucked."

"Bullseye.…sorry. I meant 'touché'." Deacon twitched away in defense, hand up. "You're not wrong, Hudson. But you've achieved what we thought we were trying to. Heck, your son - the other one - he's a synth kid, right?"

"Wrong. You don't have all the puzzle pieces. Shaun's seventeen now. We used that twisted technology to put things right for him, gave him adult body. He's Brotherhood now, a Scribe, studying to become a Proctor. Yes, Maxson knows. Unlike Desdemona's Railroad, the Brotherhood and Minutemen of Steel learned to accept Genthrees as people in their own right, as refugees, victims of mishandled science. We didn't choose to use force to make them fit into our ideal of society nor destroy them. We chose compassion and changed our perspective to accomodate their needs. I only wish that Des had been able to listen like Maxson eventually did. Not saying it was easy, though. It took years."

Deacon twisted his grip to and fro on his walking cane handle. His jaw moved side to side, an involuntary twitch. For once, Vincent's arm and leg didn't shake at all when he spoke of the tactical move he'd been forced to make.

"I ran out of time, Deacon but as much as I wanted to talk them round, I know now that I only ever had a slim chance to convince Glory or you, none of the others. Maybe not even Glory. I always regretted killing 'you'. Made it as quick as I could for them. For Stan. Now I'm doing what I can for all the people of the Commonwealth, human, ghoul or Genthree. Your fight's over, Deacon."

The ex-Railroad agent sat again, heavily. "Guess I always did have bad luck choosing gangs. I think… I think Barbara would have liked you." Vin didn't know who he was talking about but kept silent. "You derailed me, Vin. Sorry, General. He picked up the pen from the table and scribbled onto the Blast Radius score card. "Look. The word 'derailed' has the word 'liar' in the middle, just backward. Take that out, you're left with the word 'deed'. You always did tell your truth by the deeds you did, didn't you. Never outright lied."

"Never told you I was already Brotherhood when you recruited me."

"Maybe I just let that one slide." Deacon sighed. "Guess you better finish me, then."

Vin frowned, the right hand corner of his mouth quirking upward. "I'm not killin' you again. We don't murder our own."

Deacon, for once, was lost for words at that.

"No. Worse." He let Deacon stew on that for a moment. "I sentence you to face Marcy Long and a very pissed off MacCready-Hudson. Think the museum in Concord even has some stocks. After that, I'm sure I can find suitable work for you, far away from here."

Deacon had now been utterly stripped of his armour. He now wore something that Vincent had never seen on him before: humility.

"Thankyou, sir."

"I want you gone, understood? So we never see each other again, Deacon."

He made that habitual motion again, of sliding his middle finger up the bridge of his nose to push up sunglasses that were no longer there.

He nodded. "Your wish is my…strong recommendation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [In game note: this was written during my second playthrough as Vin, copying the original quest path from which I wrote "Vincent, Redefined"..
> 
> During 'Tactical Thinking' I did take down all the RR members, including Deacon. His mob went down but the quest marker still showed 'Kill Deacon'. Oh Bugthesda... I thought the quest was broken . I reported to Kells and the quest thankfully completed but the whole thing gave me the idea for this story.  
> Deacon wasn't dead... so who is the body laying on the floor?
> 
> Thanks to @boarix and @tanaleth who beta read the story for me. I don't usually ask for feedback before I publish but I wanted to be sure I had Deacon right and that the story idea worked.
> 
> Do leave a comment and let me know what you thought, too. Thankyou!


End file.
